


Scattered Light

by GhostFox



Series: Scattered Light and Drabbles [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Hospitals, I'll add more tags as the story progresses, Internal Monologue, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Kageyama, Past Child Abuse, Slow Build, alcohol mention, musician kageyama, painter hinata, self harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 135,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostFox/pseuds/GhostFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did I ever tell you the story of the bird that fell in love with the sun?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maybe I Could Know You

**Author's Note:**

> You've been known to obsess over the future  
> Do you think you'll get away from the past?  
> As you stone yourself just to make it through 'til midnight  
> consider what you might have found.  
> You think you've got a good thing now.
> 
> -Ludo

Writing music is like creating poetry compressed into invisible waves that sink deep into your skin, sticking like barbs, and implanting the words and feelings into your soul. It doesn't just touch you, or inspire you, it _becomes_ you. It flows from your fingers, filling every cracked piece inside of you that you try to hide until you feel almost whole again and you don't care that your bills aren't being paid as long as that magic sound keeps you warm.   
  
Music is subjective. It cannot be explained from one person to the next in the same way. It has to be experienced and shaped by individual consciousnesses. It’s very much like people in that aspect.   
  
Sometimes the chords are perfect, the harmonies are beautiful and others love them but to you it's just noise. Sometimes _every_ tune is just noise, much like every person is just....there. Nothing special. No poetry and no warm embrace. Just an empty feeling in your gut as the notes pass you by like thousands of unfamiliar footsteps on the street.   
  
But sometimes a certain melody grabs you, and it pulls you in so slowly that you don't notice it until the notes are pounding against your skull like an erratic heartbeat. Your loneliness starts to ebb with every gentle press of a key or stroke of a string and you piece together the pictures in your head until they become clear. And you realize that the image you've created isn't new to you. You've seen it every day for the past year.   
  
The melody is bright and tender, like a fire, licking against your skin but never burning. The face in your mind is the small orange haired boy who lives across the hall that you've never spoken to but has somehow wrestled himself into your chest and wrapped his tiny arms around your heart.   
  
And you don't understand it, but it feels right somehow.   
  
And the song is just beginning.   
  
***  
  
I was eight years old when I picked up a guitar for the first time. I was in a music store with my dad who had strictly told me not to touch anything before slinking off to find an employee. I had planned to obey, I really had, but that was before I saw it. A simple mahogany stained acoustic guitar leaning against a metal stand, glinting almost seductively at me in the dimly lit store.   
  
It was huge, much longer than my own scrawny limbs, but I lifted it as best I could and settled the rough strap around my neck, feeling its weight sit comfortably against my narrow shoulders. It felt like the piece to a puzzle I wasn't aware I was putting together clicking into place.   
  
My fingers ran over the strings experimentally, gently strumming against them. The sound was too loud, reverberating in the empty room, and too flat. My fingers moved over the frets with more dexterity than an eight year old should possess, testing different pressures and positions to produce different sounds.   
  
I can't remember how long I sat there or at what point my dad had slipped back into the room, watching me silently. I was consumed by the music.   
  
I was roused by a sparse cough and a stern "Tobio". My blood ran cold as I spun around to see my dad standing in the doorway with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest.   
  
"I-I'm sorry," I muttered, arms dropping to my sides, "it just looked so pretty."  
I dropped my gaze to the floor; eyes trained on my Velcro light-up shoes, my face burning with the shame of disobedience.   
  
"Where'd you learn to do that?" He asked gruffly. I listened closely for a hint of anger or pride but I heard neither.   
  
"I didn't. I was just playing around with it," I admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking by his face either. The strap suddenly felt hot against my neck.   
  
Dad thought for a moment, considering my words before walking over to me and lifting the guitar from my shoulders. Without a word to me he carried the instrument with him back into the room he'd disappeared into earlier.   
  
I didn't have time to sulk before he reappeared, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he held the guitar out to me.   
  
"Here," he said as I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused, "it's yours now."   
  
No. It couldn't be. I was a having a beautiful, wonderful dream that I would wake from at any moment.   
I wrapped my arms protectively around the guitar, hugging it tightly to my chest. When dad's smile didn't turn sour I realized he was sincere and wasn't just playing some awful joke on me.   
  
"Th-thanks, dad!" I called out, still in disbelief, but he was already out of the store making his way towards the car.   
  
By the time I clambered into the passenger seat and laid the guitar gently across my lap the car was already running.   
  
"Practice hard Tobio. Make me proud."  
  
Dad didn't look at me as he said it, but it felt more intimate than anything he'd said to me before.   
  
"I promise," I answered, my feet swinging with excitement as we pulled out of the parking lot in the late afternoon sun.   
  
***  
  
I didn't put that guitar down for 15 years.   
  
If I had to pinpoint the moment my life really began it would have been that day in the music shop.   
  
And it didn't stop there. By the time I was ten I had moved on to the piano, followed closely by the violin and flute. Anything I could get my hands on and form a sound.   
  
My music was my life, the only way I knew how to express myself. When I couldn't form my thoughts into words I would let them pour out of my instruments instead, saying everything I needed with much more eloquence than I could ever achieve through speech.   
  
Turning my feelings into songs was extremely therapeutic but was never a great way to make friends. My junior high and high school years were spent mostly alone, with occasional conversations with classmates but never any lasting friendships. I didn't make a real friend until college, and that was mostly because of the fact we shared a dorm room. Apparently proximity is a huge factor in a person's willingness to put up with me.   
  
But I wouldn't change any of it. Because everything that had happened in my life, every decision I'd ever made, had led me here; twenty three years old, living in a cheap dingy apartment complex in a less than desirable part of town, and neighbors with the sweetest human being I'd ever met.   
  
Except I haven't actually met him.   
  
At least not formally, seeing as I don't go out of my way to speak to people and my face is a resting scowl that keeps them from approaching me.   
  
But despite that he always greets me with a warm smile when we meet in the hallway, sometimes even a quick "hello" or "good morning", and I'd never admit it but I find myself looking forward to his greetings.   
  
I've realized over the course of my life that I tend to fall in love with things that are fleeting and intangible, not that you could ever tell. For all of my ardent inner monologue I remain stubbornly bitter on the outside.   
  
I fall in love with the way the moon washes the color from the landscape on clear nights, or the sound wind makes through the crack of a window. I love the way flowers look when their petals start to dry, or the sound of tires on gravel. One person smiles at me for no reason other than common courtesy, and I'm smitten.   
  
I become so engrossed in these simple occurrences and it takes me forever to get over them. It honestly can't be healthy.   
  
Today is Sunday though, and since I rarely leave my apartment on days I don't have to work I probably won't receive one of those sunshine smiles.    
  
I let out a sigh and slump down in my computer chair until my chin presses uncomfortably into my chest and the phone in my pocket digs into my leg. I've been sitting here for hours, the music sheets I'd been working on strewn about the desk. The papers were littered with scratch marks and crossed out notes, graphite scars on their pure white surface. Nothing I had written today turned out the way I wanted and I was frustrated with everything, mainly myself.   
  
My phone starts to buzz in my pocket, interrupting my staring contest with the ceiling. Shifting in the chair until I can pull the phone from my pocket, I find the face of my aforementioned only friend smiling back at me. I consider ignoring it and returning to my thrilling inspection of the cracks in the ceiling but I know he'll just call again until I answer so I slide my thumb over the green answer button and hold the phone to my ear.   
  
"I hope this is important. I'm a very busy man."   
  
"Oh wow you're alive. I would've thought that ignoring my calls for a week meant you were kidnapped and murdered," his words are patronizing but his voice betrays nothing but concern.   
  
"Suga I'm a grown man. I don't need you calling to check on me all the time," I sigh, sitting up in my chair.   
  
"Well someone has to check on you or you'll probably starve to death at your desk. Speaking of which, when's the last time you ate?"  
  
"Suga please, you're not my mom." That's a lie. Suga is definitely my mom.   
  
"Kageyamaaaa."   
  
"I don't know. Yesterday? Like I said, I've been busy." Yes. Extremely busy writing garbage and then crossing it out. But now that I think about it I _am_ pretty hungry.   
  
"I swear one day you really _are_ going to starve to death. Meet me at the cafe in fifteen." He hangs up before I can refuse.   
  
I believe there are two types of friends in the world. First there are the "mutual understanding" friends, the ones who let you complain about your life and provide insight and advice, and in return you allow them to do the same. This group probably makes up about 70% of friendships.   
  
The second type is the "singular interest" friends. Either they allow you to talk about your life without ever opening up about themselves or they completely dominate all conversations with their own problems without allowing you to vent. Neither of these is a good route and the remaining 30% of friendships that these make up are usually unhappy.   
  
And then there's Suga. Suga knows what's bothering you before you even have a chance to understand it yourself, and he usually already has a plan on how to make it better. And he's also completely open and honest about himself. He'll let you rant for hours and he'll listen, really _listen_ , so that he can provide the best advice possible. I've known him for five years and I've never once been able to lie about being upset without him seeing through me instantly.   
  
Basically, Sugawara Koushi is the greatest friend in the world and I have no idea why he puts up with me.   
  
The cafe we always meet at is about a ten minute walk from my apartment which requires much more energy than I'm willing to exert right now. But, as usual, the guilt of upsetting Suga outweighs my unwillingness to go outside.   
  
After a lot of groaning at nothing in particular I put my shoes on and shrug a hoodie on over my ratty t-shirt before grabbing my keys and slipping into the hallway.   
  
The door across the hallway is open and through it I can see my neighbor's couch. He's curled up on it underneath a thin blanket, hunched over a sketchbook, toes peeking out under the edge of the cloth.   
  
As I pass his open door he looks up, that signature smile on his lips. It's like the sunrise breaking over a mountain ridge. He lifts a small hand covered in charcoal smudges and waves.   
  
"Good evening Kageyama!" He calls. It catches me off guard at first before I remember that our names are printed on the mailboxes on the first floor and I actually know his too.   
  
"G-Good evening Hinata." I call back. I had meant to match his warmth but it comes out awkward and forced.   
  
He smiles again before I turned back to lock my door and head down the stairs. In the silence of the staircase, the thoughts of his smudged fingers and wiggling toes underneath the blanket swirling in my head, I actually feel myself smile too. And _that_ is just ridiculous.   
  
***  
  
I get to the cafe five minutes late but Suga still greets me with a smile when I walk in. He's sitting at our normal table next to the window, a coffee and sandwich already waiting for me.   
  
"Thanks," I mutter gruffly as I slide into the seat across from him.   
  
"So Kageyama, what've you been up to?" He singsongs, genuine interest in his eyes. I have no idea how he manages to care so much all the time.   
  
"Nothing really."  
  
"So, moping?" He teases, smirking over the lip of his mug.   
  
"I don't mope!" I snap, but it's muffled through my mouthful of sandwich. I'm hungrier than I thought.   
  
"I know your moping voice and on the phone you were definitely using your moping voice."  There's no arguing with him because then I'll just be lying. Instead I just scowl down at my half eaten sandwich.   
  
On the other side of the cafe one of the baristas starts to set up a microphone next to the bulletin board. Apparently it's open mic night.   
  
"Suga noooooo," I groan, throwing my head back, “you know I hate open mic night. Why'd you drag me here?"  
  
"Because you've been sitting in your apartment alone for a week and that always means you're out of inspiration. So I figured you could listen to some cheesy poetry or seven different renditions of Wonderwall and get some inspiration," he explains, taking another sip of his tea. God damn you Suga you thoughtful bastard.   
  
"I'm not out of inspiration," I mumble, slumping in my seat.   
  
"Oh? Have you been writing again?"   
  
I nod, not meeting his eyes, but I can see the way he straightens up excitedly.   
  
"Really? That's great Kageyama! You haven't written anything new in ages. How's it going?" He reaches across the table and lays his hand gently on my wrist. I meet his eyes and he smiles at me encouragingly. It's not fair for him to be so nice to me. It makes it harder for me to be a grumpy asshole.  
  
"It all sounded the same so I scrapped it." Disappointment flashes across his face but he quickly replaces it with an encouraging smile.   
  
"Well what've you been thinking about lately? If you figure that out you can probably figure out why it all sounds repetitive." In the corner of the cafe someone had started singing some pop song I don't know.  I try my best to ignore them.   
  
"I don't know....normal stuff. Work, the weather, when I'm going to go grocery shopping." _My neighbor_.  
  
"Hmmm. Maybe you need to shift your focus. Get a new perspective," he presses his pointer finger against his chin, thinking. "Why don't you try focusing on a person?"  
  
"A person?"   
  
"Yeah! Pick a person and think about how you feel when you look at them. It doesn't even have to be someone you know. Make up a story about someone you see on the street and then turn their story into a song."   
  
I contemplate it. I've never written music about a particular person before. It couldn't hurt to try.   
  
"That might work. I guess. I'll try it out." Suga beams at me.   
  
"Great! And let me know how it goes. No more ignoring my calls, you hear me?" He tries to look stern but fails miserably.   
  
I wave my hand dismissively. "Yeah yeah, whatever you say."  
  
***  
  
Open mic night lasts until around 9 and is rounded off by a rather odd rendition of Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful" by a six foot guy with the voice of a choir boy. It wasn't bad but it was...strange, for lack of a better word.   
  
I shift in my chair, my back stiff and creaking, and let out a yawn.   
  
"Well I should probably go home. I have work tomorrow," I mumble, pushing my chair away from the table, but Suga is too busy staring off towards the front counter to hear me. "Suga!" I call, snapping my fingers in front of his face.   
  
"Hmmm? Oh! Sorry Kageyama," he rubs nervously at the back of his neck and gives me an apologetic smile. "Are you leaving?"   
  
I nod, turning towards the counter to see what had distracted him but only seeing a bored looking barista leaning against the counter and playing on his phone.   
  
"Well let me walk you home then!" Suga says hurriedly, jumping up to block my view of the barista. I narrow my eyes at him but he just shrugs his shoulders and grabs my arm, leading me towards the door.   
  
Judging by the pink tinge to his cheeks he obviously doesn't want me to know what he was looking at. I make a mental note to bring it up again later.   
  
"You don't have to walk with me. It's out of your way," I shrug as we step out onto the quiet street outside the cafe. The air is brisk and there are no cars anywhere in sight. I love walking alone on nights just like this when I can fill the silence around me with the melody of my own thoughts. It’s warm and comforting. It makes me feel free.   
  
"It's alright. I want to," Suga insists, falling into step beside me on the sidewalk. He probably just wants to check if I have any food in my fridge and if I've done my laundry recently. Sometimes it feels like Suga mothers me more than my actual mother.   
  
The walk back to my apartment building is silent but it isn't awkward. Suga is one of the only people with which I don't feel the need to fill every second with forced conversation, he's known me long enough to know that I'm a man of few words and he understands me. We were roommates in college, forced to get along due to proximity, but sometimes I wonder why he'd stuck with me afterwards.   
  
As we near my floor on the staircase I remember seeing Hinata through his open door and my heartbeat picks up its pace a little. My eyes flit immediately to his door when we enter the hallway but it's closed and I can feel disappointment settle in my gut.   
_Stop being stupid_ , I tell myself, _you don't even know him_.  
  
"Hey Kageyama it looks like you have a package," Suga says, breaking my pathetic train of thought. He points towards my door and sure enough there's a plastic bag hanging from the handle.   
  
I slip it off of the knob, unlocking the door for Suga, and carry it into my dark apartment. He flips the light on as we walk in and sure enough he heads straight into the kitchen to check my food stock. He could at least try to be sly about it.   
  
"Kageyama all you have in here is milk!" He calls out exasperatedly as he closes the fridge and moves onto the pantry.   
  
"Milk is good for you," I mutter, setting the bag down on the coffee table and perching myself on the edge of my living room sofa. The plastic handles are tied in a knot and after struggling with it for longer than I care to admit I just rip a hole in the side of the bag, opening it enough that I can see what's inside.   
  
There's a foil wrapped plate and on top is a piece of paper folded into one of those makeshift envelopes that girls used to pass notes around on in middle school. I pick it up, feeling childish just holding such a silly thing in my hands, and pull the triangle tab to unfold it. The handwriting is large and bubbly, the second sign that this is from some silly teenage girl.   
  
**I got carried away and made way too many cookies than I know what to do with so I thought you might like some. Hope you like chocolate chip!  
-Hinata Shouyou  
**  
"You can't leave your clothes in the washer or they'll mildew. I put them in the dryer for you. And I'm taking you grocery shopping tomorrow whether you like it or not you can't live on milk," Suga rambles, making his way from the kitchen to the living room. "What was in that bag by the way- whoa Kageyama why are you so red?" He stops in front of the coffee table, shooting me a worried look. Shit, not this again.   
  
"I'm not red. And they're just cookies from my neighbor." I lift the foil to show him the still warm plate of sweets. There's at least two dozen, just how many did he make? Suga crosses his arms, a sly smirk spreading on his face. Oh no.   
  
"A neighbor huh?"  
  
"Suga please," I groan. "He's just a guy I say hi to sometimes." My social energy is at its max for the day and I do not have time for this.   
  
"And he leaves you cookies?" He asks, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite. "Good cookies too," me mumbles through his mouthful.   
  
"Suga go home."  
  
"I'm just saying," he shrugs, finishing off his cookie. "What's he like anyway?" I drop my head in my hands with another groan and the couch shifts as Suga plops down next to me. I don't want to have this conversation but he isn't going to let it go.   
  
"I wouldn't know," I deadpan, dragging my hands down my face. I grab a blanket from the edge of the couch and start to wrap myself in it, hoping that the barrier will protect me from Suga's prying.   
  
"You have to know _something_ , what's he look like?" He pokes me gently in the ribs, just hard enough that I can feel it through the layers of blanket.  
  
"I don't know, he's....small. I guess." Suga pokes me again, obviously not finding that answer satisfactory, and I flop onto my side with a groan. "He has orange hair that sticks up all over the place and big bright eyes," I growl. I can't believe I'm actually saying this. "He's really friendly and warm and smiles really wide."   
  
I pause, thinking back to the times I had passed him in the hallway. "I think he paints. Sometimes when I see him he has paint on his clothes or his arms."  
  
The apartment is silent. I might've gotten a little carried away. I bend forward so I can see Suga sitting at the other end of the couch but I instantly regret it. His face is practically beaming with smug satisfaction.   
  
"You know it usually takes forever to get you to talk about anything other than music with that much interest." He smirks, reaching forward for another cookie. "He sounds like a sweet guy," he says, thankfully deciding not to push it any farther.   
  
Another great thing about Suga is that even though he loves to tease me he's great at reading situations and always knows when to stop.   
  
"Stop eating my cookies," I grumble, pushing him with my blanketed foot.   
  
"They're good! And you can't eat them all yourself."  
  
"That's why I have so much milk."  
  
"Fine," he sighs, snatching a few more and standing up. "But don't call me when you make yourself sick." Yeah right. As if he wouldn't rush to my apartment the second he even suspected I wasn't feeling well. You aren't fooling anyone Suga.   
  
"Leave me alone so I can brood," I mutter, wriggling down until my blanket covers my head.   
  
"I'll call you tomorrow so we can go grocery shopping ok? Don't stay up too late." He doesn't wait for my response, knowing that I probably won't provide one. I hear his footsteps cross the floor and the front door open and close as he leaves. He even locks my door from the outside with his key that I still don't know how he got a hold of.   
  
I don't know how long I sit in my blanket burrito but I eventually push it off, giving in to the suffocating heat. I wonder if I should sleep, but I don't feel tired. I don't feel like actually /doing/ anything either.   
  
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, interrupting the silence. I reach out, feeling blindly across the wooden surface, too lazy to actually turn my head. When my fingers finally find the cool metal I lift it to my face, glaring at the brightness of the screen.   
  
**From: Sugamama  
Your neighbor had his door open when I left. He waved at me. You're right he's pretty cute ;)**  
  
I'm pretty sure I never called Hinata cute while talking to Suga. That smug bastard. I sigh, letting my hand fall to my side, dropping my phone on the carpet.   
  
What is this world coming to when not even cute neighbors are sacred anymore?  
  
***  
  
Inspiration comes at the strangest times, wrestling its way into your head and making itself at home until you force it out into your work. Mine comes in the form of Hinata.   
  
It may sound creepy but the image of him standing over a mixing bowl of cookie dough, flour smeared across his forehead, makes me want to write. And once that image is in my head I can't stop. I imagine more and more until my mind is moving so fast that my fingers can't keep up as they draw notes and strum guitar strings.   
  
I make up stories about his life like Suga had suggested. I picture him dancing along to cheesy pop songs as he vacuums, or curling up on his couch with a tub of ice cream watching cliché action movies.   
  
The made up story I write starts out simply but soon my imagination spins out of control. My imaginary Hinata has stuffed animals on his bed and sings in the shower. He cries when he finishes a book, if the ending was sad or not, and he grows flowers in his bedroom.   
  
By the time I finish my song the sun is rising outside my window, pouring golden light over the pages of musical notes hastily scribbled between delusions.   
  
I'm exhausted, wanting nothing more than to pull the curtains shut and fall into bed pretending it was still nighttime, but I have work in a few hours.   
  
Instead I grab a quick shower, letting the hot water run over my stiff muscles and the tension leak from my shoulders.   
  
Once I'm done and dressed I still have around two hours before I have to be at work but I leave anyway, hoping I can use the extra time to record some of my song.   
  
I work at the rec center in my town, teaching beginning piano, guitar, and violin lessons Monday through Friday, and along with the steady pay, I get to use the recording studio as much as I want. I do all of my recording there since the acoustics are much better than anything I could achieve in my apartment. Not to mention it saves my neighbors from the incessant noise through the paper thin walls of the building.    
  
No one is in yet when I get there so I fish the keys out of my pocket and unlock the heavy front doors. The rec center is freezing inside, at least a ten degree drop from the brisk yet comfortable temperatures outside.   
  
The recording is rather easy, requiring only two instruments, so after about an hour of recording and half an hour of editing I burn the song onto a CD and snap it into a plastic case. As I slide the case into my bag I felt strangely light, like something has been lifted from my shoulders. Whatever feelings I have been carrying around lately and bottling up have been poured into that CD, and now I'm unburdened by them.   
  
My classes start shortly after that and breeze by much quicker than usual, but by the time I'm done the all-nighter I pulled has caught up with me. The prospect of walking home and falling onto my bed is the only thought in my head.  
  
I'm halfway to the door, waving goodbye to the director of the arts at the rec center, when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket.   
  
I press the green 'answer' button and hold it to my ear, not needing to check the caller ID to know who it is.   
  
"How was your day?" Suga chirps, sounding much more awake and chipper than I.   
  
"Usual," I mumble, stepping outside and turning onto the path that leads me home.   
  
"You sound tired, did you not sleep well?" I make a grunting sound in response. "Kageyamaaaaa," he prods, not amused.  
  
"Didn't sleep."  
  
He sighs and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut like he usually does when chastising me. "You're going to make yourself sick like that. Sleeping is very important to your health."  
  
"I was busy. And I'm planning on sleeping as soon as I get home so you can get off my ass." It comes out harsher than I mean but combined with my current grumpiness and my overall asshole demeanor Suga seems unaffected.   
  
"Well you'll have to put that off for a little bit. I'm taking you grocery shopping remember? Oikawa and I are on our way to pick you up from work right now." I let out a loud groan and drag my hand down the side of my face. Oikawa Tooru, Suga's roommate, is the most arrogant and annoying person on earth. Suga has a reputation for keeping people that no one else can stand as friends but this guy is a stretch even for him.   
  
"Suga nooo. Not Oikawa I hate that guy," I groan loudly, hoping he can hear me through Suga's phone speaker.   
  
"No you don't. Hate is a strong word and you shouldn't use it. Besides, we need the car for groceries," he sighs, probably picturing the next few hours of arguing between me and Oikawa that he's going to have to endure.   
  
I groan again and stop walking, planting myself on the nearest bench. "I'm at the bus stop," I mutter dejectedly.   
  
"That's the spirit! We'll be there shortly." He hangs up and I let my hand fall into my lap. I lean my head against the pole of the bus stop awning and sigh. I don't have enough energy for this.   
  
***  
  
The shopping trip goes rather well. I only threaten to punch Oikawa in his smug self-righteous face six times and I only try twice. Suga is proud of me.   
  
Two and a half hours later I'm back in the backseat of Oikawa's pristine Honda civic, squished in next to all of the healthy food Suga made me buy.   
  
("All I need is more cereal and some box macaroni and cheese and I'll be good for the next two weeks" "You can't live on pasta and cereal you need some vegetables")  
  
"So Tobio," Oikawa's voice trills from the driver's seat, "I didn't get a chance to ask you how your music is going."  
  
"Then don't ask."  
  
"Kageyama," Suga sighs, exhausted from keeping us in line at the store. I groan and slump deeper in my seat, a head of lettuce rolling out of a plastic bag and onto my chest. "Can we please be civil?"  
  
"That requires both of us to put in an effort, and we all know _I_ already am." I would threaten to deck him again but I'm too tired so I pretend the lettuce is holding me down.   
  
"Fine. I'll ask for you. Kageyama, how's the music going?" Suga compromises.   
  
"I recorded a song this morning," I mumble, not wanted to upset Suga any more than I already have.   
  
"Really!?" He spins around in his seat to get a better look at me. "But last night you said you hadn't written anything."  
  
"I wrote it last night," I shrug. His eyes are so round and bright I can't help but feel a little proud of myself with him.   
  
"What inspired you?" He asks and I cringe a little. I don't want to admit that I wrote it based on the imaginary life of my barely-an-acquaintance neighbor that I may or may not find very cute.   
  
"Nothing really," I say, sitting back up and looking nonchalantly out the window. "I guess I kinda took your advice from the cafe."  
  
"You wrote about a person? Who?"  
  
"No one in particular." My eyes are trained hard on the scenery passing by.   
  
"Ooooh Tobio has a cruuush," Oikawa singsongs and it takes all of my willpower not to strangle him from behind. But for the sake of my imaginary pride I have to keep up my calm and casual demeanor.   
  
"That's okay. You don't have to say if you don't want to. I'm just glad you're writing again," Suga smiles warmly. I don't deserve him.   
  
"Ooh I bet it's that what's-his-name boy next door," Oikawa trills and I can feel the color drain from my face.   
  
"You told him!?" I shout and Suga immediately throws up his hands.   
  
"He read my text to you! I honestly didn't mean to Kageyama, you know I wouldn't say anything you didn't want me to." He looks so apologetic, and I obviously can't blame him because I know he wouldn't lie, so I turn my anger to Oikawa instead.   
  
"You have no idea what you're talking about Asskawa," I growl, scowling into the rearview mirror.   
  
"Oh geez, I didn't think it was actually true! I was just messing with you but this is hilarious!" He laughs, winking back at me. Suga slaps him gently on the wrist and gives him a stern look, or at least as stern as he can muster.   
  
I drop my head against the window, telling myself that if I killed him right now then all three of us would die since he was driving and I just couldn't do that to Suga.   
  
I don't say anything else until we pull up next to my apartment building and Suga gets out to help me grab the bags from the backseat. We're halfway up the stairs when he asks "Can I hear your new song?"   
  
It's an apology disguised as a question. Every time I write a new song Suga is the first to hear it. He always gets so excited and I love the way he understands the things I try to say through the melodies. It's kind of a tradition of ours.   
  
"Yeah," I sigh, so low it's almost unintelligible but I feel the tension leave the air and I know he hears me.   
  
We carry everything inside my apartment and Suga starts to stack the fruits and vegetables in my fridge while I pull the CD out of my bag and set up my laptop. I hear the pantry door close and he walks into the living room behind me. I gesture to the waiting laptop and he walks forward to press the play button before falling into the computer chair.   
  
The sounds of slow guitar chords and a light drum beat fill the room and Suga smiles. I curl up on the couch as the beat speeds up, the cushions softer than ever underneath my sleep heavy head. I think I drift off somewhere in the middle of the song because the next thing I know I open my eyes and the apartment is dark.   
  
I roll over and grab my phone, squinting at the screen that tells me it's been about three hours since I got home. My laptop is powered down and the CD is back in its plastic case next to it. Suga must have left without wanting to wake me, or maybe he tried and I was too far gone.   
  
With a groan I get off the couch and head for the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal, grabbing one of the apples Suga forced me to buy for good measure. On my way back to the couch I notice a sticky note pressed to the plastic CD case on my desk.   
  
**You should show this to him. When you're ready.**  
  
It's signed with a cheesy heart and for a moment I want to be annoyed, but instead I consider his words. I've never known Suga to steer me wrong, and his advice is always good natured.   
  
Maybe I _should_ show Hinata the song. It _is_ about him after all. And maybe he won't be weirded out by it? He seems like a friendly enough guy not to be weirded out by it. Besides, writing a song about a stranger doesn't automatically mean I'm _interested_ in him or anything like that. He totally won't get the wrong impression. I shouldn't be embarrassed about it.   
  
Before I have the chance to change my mind and lose my sudden courage I abandon my bowl of cereal for another sticky note and quickly scrawl out a note as neatly as I can, which isn't very neat at all.   
  
**This may sound weird, but I'm a musician and recently a friend of mine suggested I write songs about people I see around me and this one happened to be about you so I thought you might want to listen to it. Sorry if that's creepy.  
-Kageyama Tobio**  
  
I read it over a dozen times before sticking it to the inside of the plastic case. I'll just leave it by his door, just like he did the cookies, that way I won't have to see the creeped out look on his face.   
  
I slap my cheeks a few times to hype myself up and stride over to the front door. One quick movement. Just open the door, put the CD down and turn around. I can do it.   
  
With a steadying sigh I open turn the knob and step forward, just as Hinata's door across the hall opens and he does the same. _Shit_.  
  
"Hello!" He chirps, smiling as bright as ever. I can feel heat rising from my chest to my cheeks, burning me alive from the inside out.   
  
"Uh, I uh...." I sputter. He tilts his head and gives me a questioning, almost concerned, look. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold the case out to him.   
  
He takes it, smiling nervously, and opens it. I watch in what seems like painstakingly slow motion as he reads the note, his nose scrunching up in a pout. It's cute. Goddamit this is not the time to be thinking that.   
  
He shakes his head and hands the case back, shaking his head and giving me an apologetic smile. Oh god. I've freaked him out. Abandon ship.   
  
"I'm sorry," I mumble, turning back to my door before I can embarrass myself any further, but a small hand reaches out and grabs my arm.   
  
Startled, I turn back towards him. He smiles sadly again before pointing to himself and then motioning from the corner of his mouth to his ear with his pointer finger.    
  
I stand there, staring stupidly for a few moments before it clicks.   
  
He won't listen to my song because he _can't_ listen to it.   
  
Hinata is deaf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts, suggestions, or questions would be greatly appreciated! You can direct them all to my tumblr, [here](http://ghost--fox.tumblr.com/)


	2. Starry Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One life to live  
> Many paths to take  
> One twists and turns and falls away  
> And flowers bloom in brilliant light  
> And fade into the night  
> So much to lose  
> Or so it seems  
> These idle games and children's dreams  
> How they confound and split the seams inside my mind  
> I just keep moving on into the unknown
> 
> -Eve 6

I've embarrassed myself countless times throughout my life, some instances far more memorable than others.   
  
There was the time my parents were entertaining guests and I had no idea so I walked into the kitchen in my boxers with headphones in, belting out some punk rock song I can't remember, just to turn around and see a room full of adults staring at me.   
  
Once I accidentally walked into the girl's restroom at school and was too scared to come out so I crouched in the stall for hours until the coast was clear, missing all of my afternoon classes, and then emerged right in front of the principal.   
  
I got stuck in a water slide when my t-shirt snagged on a bolt and they had to shut down the slide until someone could open it up and pull me out.   
  
Every instance ended the same. With  my face burning, frozen in place as fear courses through my veins even though I wasn't exactly sure what I was afraid _of_. Eventually, though, those feelings passed within a day or two only to resurface once in a while on a sleepless night, wriggling its way into my subconscious and leaving me internally cringing it no more worse for wear.   
  
I've done countless embarrassing things in my twenty three short years of life, but none of them can compare to standing in the hallway of my apartment building staring blankly at a deaf boy as I offer him a CD.   
  
He cocks his head to the side again, probably wondering if I'm so stupid that I need more explanation. No, it was clear enough the first time; I'm just useless and unable to form coherent sentences at the moment.   
  
"I-I'm sorry," I stutter, the flush on my face so hot it's practically blistering, burning against my palm as I rub the back of my neck nervously. Am I supposed to leave? Do I try to talk to him more? What exactly is it I'm supposed to do in this situation?   
  
"Oh!" Hinata snaps suddenly, cracking a smile and holding up a finger to tell me to wait before turning around and heading back inside his apartment, spiky hair bouncing with each step. I start to feel along the wall behind me for my doorknob, planning to retreat quickly back inside and to curl up under a blanket and probably die.   
  
My hand finds the cold brass but just as I start to turn it the door at the end of the hall opens and... Hinata steps out of the stairwell?  
No, not quite Hinata, but a smaller, much more female version of him.   
  
She skips towards me down the hall, stopping when she sees me standing awkwardly in front of my door, my face probably the same shade of red as her school uniform bow tie.   
  
"Hello!" She singsongs, her voice bright and friendly, incline her head towards me politely. "Can I help you?"  
  
Help me? Not even God can help me right now.   
  
"I- uh, what?" Nothing is processing between my brain and my mouth right now and I look like a blubbering idiot. Make that two people I've humiliated myself in front of today.   
  
Small girl Hinata laughs at me and points her chin toward normal Hinata's open doorway. "Do you know my big brother?"   
  
Big brother? Okay that makes way more sense than a tiny female clone.   
"Uh, no...yes. Kind of?" I ramble, making a fool of myself even more.   
  
She laughs again just as normal Hinata reappears in the doorway.   
"Shouyou!" She trills, throwing her arms around his neck. She has to stand on her tiptoes even though he can't be more than 5'4 himself.  
  
"Is this your friend?" She asks, stepping back. He starts to sign at her, as fast and his hands can go, and I have no idea how she keeps up. He apparently tells her all about my grand gesture because she turns to me, eyeing the CD that's still in my hand with knowing eyes.   
  
"I see," she whispers. Is that pity in her voice? "My brother wants me to tell you he's very sorry that he can't listen to your song but he appreciates it and he'd very much like to be friends." She thinks for a moment before extending her hand to me. "I'm Shouyou's little sister Natsu, by the way. It's nice to meet you."  
  
I shake her hand reflexively, the sensory overload from the entire situation numbing my skull.   
"Kageyama," I mumble. "Uhh, tell him I'd like that too," I add, and I'm pretty sure my voice wavers.   
  
Deciding not to stick around to embarrass myself any further I turn back to my door, turning the knob with a click, but once again I feel a small hand grab my arm. I turn, and once again it's Hinata, his palm warm against my skin.   
  
He lifts up a pen, waving it at me and gesturing to my forearm with the capped end. I nod, and he uncaps it with his teeth, flipping my arm over to the smoother underside and scribbling something. "Thanks," I mutter, turning again and practically bolting into my apartment and slamming the door behind me.   
  
I slump against the thin wood, sliding all the way to the floor and dropping my head between my knees. I need some aspirin or a strong drink, maybe the cold embrace of death.   
  
That's the last time I'll ever try to be social. I vow it. I've learned my lesson, making friends is just not my strong suit and I should give up right now.   
  
I twist my arm so I can see it through the space between my knees and examine the familiar bubbly scrawl. It's Hinata's phone number.   
  
Oh great. I have his number and he doesn't have mine which means it's my responsibility to initiate the first text which also means that I am once again in a position to make this friendship into an actual friendship.   
  
We're both doomed.   
  
***  
  
"Suga it's an emergency call me back ASAP."  
  
I hang up and immediately redial Suga's number.   
  
"Hey you've reached Suga! I can't come to the phone right now but I'll call you back as soon as-" click. This is the third time in a row I've gotten his voicemail. I'm really glad he has a social life and all but I just basically ruined mine and am in dire need of someone to tell me I'm not a _complete_ idiot. They'd be lying, but I still need to hear it.   
  
I drop my phone onto the carpet and let myself fall on my side with a thump. You know this isn't too bad. I could stay curled here on the floor comfortably for the three days it would take me to ultimately die of dehydration. No problem.   
  
My stomach lets out a low grumble, interrupting my silent pity party. I stay strong for about thirty seconds before I decide that starvation and dehydration is not the route I want to take. With a groan I stand up, grabbing my forgotten bowl of cereal from the desk and making my way toward the kitchen.   
  
I calm down considerably in the time it takes to make a sandwich, and the feeling of something in my stomach helps clear my head.    
  
So I offered music to a deaf boy. What's wrong with that? It's not like I knew beforehand. It's an honest mistake, right? Except for the fact that afterwards I stood there stuttering and blushing like an idiot. That's the real kicker. He must think I'm an idiot.   
  
I walk back into the entryway and pick up my phone from its spot on the carpet, checking to see if Suga called me back. He hasn't.   
  
I scroll through my call logs absentmindedly. They're all to or from Suga, one from my mom a few months ago, and one from Oikawa? When did that asshole call me? Why do I even have him as a contact in the first place?  
  
I click on his contact info and I'm about to press delete when a thought occurs to me; Oikawa would know where Suga is. My finger hovers over the call button for a few moments before I press it with a defeated sigh. I must really be desperate if I'm doing something this pathetic.   
  
He picks up on the second ring. "Tobioooooo!" He singsongs, and I nearly hang up immediately.   
  
"Don't call me that," I deadpan. I'm regretting every second of this.   
  
"Aww, you're so mean to me Tobio! Aren't we friends?" I can hear his fake pout through the phone and I grit my teeth.   
  
"No."  
  
"Ouch. That hurts. You stabbed me right through the heart. I don't know how I'll go on-,"  
  
"Oikawa! I'm not calling to talk to you, trust me. I just want to know where Suga is. He's not answering my calls." I can feel a migraine starting to pound against my temple.   
  
"Oh you don't know? Our dear little Koushi is on a date," he answers, a teasing lilt in his voice.  
  
"A date? With who?" Suga never mentioned having a date. Or even someone to _go_ on a date _with_.   
  
"I think he said it's someone he met at that dingy little cafe you two love so much." He must be getting bored because the annoying tone to his voice is starting to lessen.   
  
Maybe that's why he was acting so weird when we were at the cafe last night. The mystery date must work there or something. "Do you know when he'll be back?" I ask.   
  
"No idea," he yawns. "What's so important anyway?"  
  
"Nothing," I snap, which catches his attention back.   
  
"Oh? Doesn't sound like nothing. Come on Tobio! You can tell little ol' me."  
  
I start to growl out a response but I stop to contemplate his words. Oikawa would be way more honest about how stupid I am than Suga. If I want an honest opinion on the matter then maybe telling him isn't that bad of an idea.   
  
"Fine," I grumble.   
  
"Great!" He claps. "Let me just grab some tea because this ought to be entertaining."  
  
"Oikawaaaa."  
  
"Okay, okay, fine. Proceed," he hums. I honestly can't believe I'm doing this.   
  
"So I went to talk to my neighbor-"  
  
"Oh the cute one?"  
  
"Oikawa I swear to God I'll hang up right now."  
  
"Okay! Sorry, geez. I was just trying to get the story straight."  
  
"Okay, anyway," I sigh, rubbing my temples, "I went to talk to him and... it turns out he's deaf."  
  
"....And? Is that the whole story?" He asks. "That's not a very big deal Tobio. Ever heard of sign language?"  
  
"Yeah I know, I'm not done. The deaf part isn't the problem. I found this out because I was trying to show him a song....that I wrote....about him," I cringe at the words. Why did I ever think that was a good idea in the first place? From now on I'm going to voice all of my ideas out loud before doing them and see if they sound as ridiculous as this one. That ought to be helpful.   
  
"Ah I see," he says, "so you made a big fool of yourself."  
  
"Yeah," I sigh. "And then he gave me his number," I add, and Oikawa starts to laugh.   
  
"He gave you his number? Then what are you worried about?" He says between giggles.   
  
"That I looked like a giant loser?" I think it's a valid concern.   
  
"Okay, listen Tobio; do you want my honest advice?" I've never heard Oikawa sound serious before. It's kind of odd.   
  
"Y-yeah," I stutter.   
  
"This is what you do. Tomorrow you're going to text him. Just make pleasant conversation and once the ice breaks invite the kid to coffee or something."  
  
"Yeah but-"  
  
"Ah ah," he tsks, his metaphorical finger wagging at me, "I'm not finished. I'm going to call a friend of mine for you. He works with kids with hearing as speech impairments and teaches sign language on the side. You're going to meet with him and learn how to talk to this kid properly. Sound good?"  
  
"I-," I honestly don't know what to say. I didn't know Oikawa was capable of acting like a decent human being let alone _go out of his way_ to help me. "I-, yeah. That sounds great actually. Thanks Oikawa."  
  
"Don't mention it Tobio. Just try to refrain from making an ass of yourself again and everything will work out fine," he trills, back to his pretentious asshole tone.   
  
"I'll try," I mumble, deciding not to argue with him this time.   
  
When I hang up I let out a deep breath. I feel a lot better, like some of the stress has been lifted from my shoulders. "Everything will work out fine" he said, and I can't help but hope he's right.   
  
When I crawl into bed that night I'm plagued by the thought that Oikawa and I might actually be _friends_. It's nightmare fuel.   
  
***  
  
The next day I slink stealthily through the hallway on my way to and from work, checking beforehand to make sure Hinata's door isn't open. I'm lucky enough both times to avoid another awkward encounter.   
  
I take my phone out when I get home, ignoring the seventeen missed calls from Suga. He had his chance. I'm not upset with him but I just want to let him worry a little bit. I'm sure Oikawa filled him in a little so at least he knows I'm not hurt or anything.   
  
I curl up on my bed as soon as I kick off my shoes by the door and roll myself up in the thick comforter. I've had about six hours of sleep in the last two days and it's starting to take its toll. My eyelids grow heavy and my mind goes fuzzy, in that stage right between awake and asleep where everything is dull edges and muffled sounds, when it feels like you're sinking deep into the feathery surface of blessed unconsciousness.   
  
I'm ripped out of my pillowy escape by a loud banging at my front door. "Leave me alone," I groan, rolling over and stuffing my head underneath a pillow. Whoever it is can wait. Nothing can pull me out of this bed right now, not even a hand around my ankle literally pulling me out- "Hey! What the-," my sentence is cut off by a rough flick against my forehead.   
  
"Don't _EVER_ leave me a message like that and then ignore my phone calls, Kageyama Tobio, I swear I could _STRANGLE_ you right now!" I look bleary eyed up into the very angry face of my best friend. I don't think I've ever actually seen him this upset.   
  
"Hey, you ignored me first," I say, rubbing the tender spot on my forehead where he flicked me, "and that hurt by the way."  
  
"Good! I'm glad it hurt! You deserve a lot more!" He crosses his arms roughly across his chest, still glaring at me. "And I wasn't ignoring you. My phone was off but I called you back as soon as I could." With an indignant huff he plops down on the edge of the bed.   
  
"I assume Oikawa told you everything or else you would've been breaking down my door last night," I sneer, pulling the blankets back up over my head. "Where were you by the way? He said you were on a date."  
  
"Well...I was."  
  
I move the blankets just enough to form a tiny space that I can see him through. "With who?"   
  
He blushes and turns away from me a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I never noticed that we both have that same habit. I guess five years of friendship syncs you up like that.   
  
"Uhhh, a barista, from the cafe. I met him right before you showed up the other night. We hit it off pretty well so we went out for coffee last night." He turns back and shrugs, shooting me a tentative smile. "I thought it would be a weird choice seeing as he worked there but he seemed to have a good time. At least I hope he did," he breaks off, staring towards the wall reflectively.   
  
I can see a delicate pink tinge his cheeks again as he thinks. It's been so long since Suga has been on a date. I can't remember the last time to be honest. Was it college? He always seems too busy dealing with me and my bullshit internal crises that seem to happen almost weekly to have any time for himself, let alone to /date/. Well great, now I feel like a worthless piece of shit friend. I mean, I always knew I was, but this is particularly shitty. I really hope this date went well. Suga deserves it. And every other good thing in this world.   
  
"So what's this guy's name? Is he nice?"   
  
"Oh he's great! His name is Daichi. He's kind of the strong, commanding type but he's also really sweet. We're going out again on Saturday. For dinner instead of coffee this time."  
  
He looks happy and I want to say something nice like "congratulations" or "I hope it goes well" but I'm apparently incapable of pleasant conversation so I just huff through my nose and roll over. I'm sure he understands my meaning.   
  
I'm almost asleep when he speaks again. "Oh, by the way, Tooru wanted me to ask if you've done what he told you. What does that mean?" He asks, pulling the blanket away from my face.   
  
Shit I forgot about that. Texting Hinata isn't exactly high on the list of things I'm super willing to do since it meant _I_ would have to initiate the conversation, but being his friend _is_ really high on the list. I groan and try to tug the blanket back but Suga doesn't budge.   
  
"Kageyamaaa."  
  
Gathering all of my strength I sit up, shooting him the best glare I can muster which just ends up halfhearted and weak. "This," I say, lifting my arm to show him the slightly smudged ink on my skin. He cocks his head to the side, confused.  
  
"Was that on your arm at work all day?"  
  
"It's Hinata's number," I explain. "And yes. But that's not important right now." He didn't need to know about how I'd forgotten it was there until some kid in one of my classes pointed it out with waggling eyebrows. "Oikawa wants me to invite him to coffee."  
  
"Oh! That's great! Have you done it yet?" He's practically bouncing with excitement.   
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Well then do it right now!"  
  
"I'm really tired. Maybe tomorrow," I mumble, picking up a pillow and pulling it to my chest, but Suga grabs it from me and whacks me in the face. "Hey! What the f-"  
  
"Text him!" He shouts, cutting me off. He drops the pillow and picks up my phone from the bedside table, shoving it in my hands. There's no getting out of this.   
  
"Fine! I don't know why you and Oikawa won't just let me stay a friendless loser," I mutter, lifting my arm to see the scribbled numbers as I create a new contact.   
  
"Stop griping and just do it already," he laughs, fluffing my pillow and putting it back where it goes.   
  
He watches as I type out a message, erase it, and rewrite it over and over, trying to achieve that perfect balance between nonchalance and general friendliness. I don't want to come on too strong but I don't want him to think I'm a douchebag. I _am_ , but he doesn't need to know.   
  
I finally settle on the wording and hesitantly press send.   
  
**To: Hinata  
Hey its Kageyama. I figured you should have my number since I have yours  
**  
"See? Was that so hard?" Suga asks, prodding me gently in the ribs.   
  
"Yes."  
  
We sit in silence for a few moments, my phone sitting on the rumpled blankets between us. My heart beating too fast, not an anxious pounding, like the feeling of an impending thing you have no control over, but more of a fluttering, like the expectation of something hopeful.   
  
The screen lights up and I feel the vibration through the fabric of my comforter. Suga looks up at me, smiling so wide it crinkles the corner of his eyes, hiding the freckle beneath the left one, and I promptly grab the phone and chuck it across the room.   
  
"What the-," Suga's smile quickly changes to a shocked gape as his head swivels around to see the phone laying screen down in front of my closet door. "W-why?"  
  
"I-I don't know," he turns back to me and I return his wide eyed gaze with an equally shocked expression. "I just...kinda panicked. It was a reflex."  
  
"It's a text not a bomb!"  
  
"I know!"  
  
With an exasperated sigh he gets up and grabs my phone from its resting place on the floor, shaking his head in disapproval and mumbling to himself. "Well it's not completely broken," he mutters as returns to his perch on my bed. I reach for it but he pulls back. "Are you going to behave?"   
  
"Just give it back," I try to snatch it back but he holds it just out of reach. "Yes I'll behave!" I shout, desperate to check the message and way past being able to regain my dignity.   
  
He drops it into my hands, the cracked screen reflecting my face in a broken spider web of features. The light comes on when I press the screen button, so at least it's not destroyed. I swipe across the glass tendrils of the web, opening up Hinata's text.   
  
**From: Hinata  
Thanks! Sorry about yesterday btw, I hope I didn't make things awkward**  
  
What does he mean? Of course he didn't make things awkward. _I'm_ the one who made it awkward. Does he think I felt awkward because he told me he's deaf? Because that's ridiculous. I tap out a quick reply and hit send without all of the hesitation from before.   
  
**To: Hinata  
How would you make things awkward?**  
  
Maybe it was a bit too blunt. His response comes quickly, the phone vibrating while it's still in my hand.   
  
**From: Hinata  
I had my sister tell you I wanted to be friends. It kind of put you in a position where you couldn't say no  
**  
Well that's a stupid thing to worry about. Being straightforward is honestly the only way to communicate with me. I'm much too dense to understand social cues.   
  
**To: Hinata  
Don't worry about it  
**  
I look up to find Suga shooting me a smug smile and I feel my cheeks warm up suddenly.   
  
"W-what?" I bark, clicking the screen off and leaning back against the wall. "Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
"Oh nothing," he singsongs, "just wondering if I should leave you and your phone aloooone," he winks. The bastard winked at me. I can feel the flush spread from my face to the tips of my ears.   
  
"Don't be stupid." I throw off the thick comforter and stand up, slipping my phone into the pocket of my jeans and making my way towards the kitchen. I'm pulling a milk jug from the fridge when Suga walks in behind me, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, that smirk still playing at his lips. I have at least three inches of height on him but the way he carries himself always makes me feel small, like he understands so much more about the world, so much more about _me_ , than I do. Which isn't too far from the truth.   
  
"So what did he say?" He asks, eyeing the glass of milk in my hand with slight disapproval.   
  
I take a long drink, considering my response. The conversation isn't as warm as I would like, but we aren't exactly close yet so I guess it could be worse. "Nothing much," I admit, swiping across my lips with the back of my hand.   
  
"Did you ask him to coffee yet?"  
  
"No. The opportunity didn't really come up." I shrug, setting my empty glass in the sink with a dull thump.   
  
"Make and opportunity. You can write a song about the guy but you can't ask him to coffee? C'mon Kageyama, you're braver than that," he steps forward and punches me lightly on the shoulder.   
  
"Fine, fine," I grumble, fishing my phone back out of my pocket. There's a reply from Hinata.   
  
**From: Hinata  
Do you want to hang out sometime?**  
  
Wow, he's almost as blunt as me. "Maybe I won't have to," I say, holding the phone up to show the text to Suga.   
  
"Well you two seem to be getting along handsomely," he smiles, leaning back against the threshold. "Invite him to the cafe."  
  
I nod, tapping out a quick response.   
  
**To: Hinata  
There's a cafe a few blocks from here. Are you free Friday?  
**  
His response is almost immediate.   
  
**From: Hinata  
How's 6?  
  
To: Hinata  
Works for me**  
  
"Well that's settled," I mumble, relaying the messages to Suga who nods approvingly.   
  
"I'm proud of you," he says, suddenly serious.   
  
"For what?" I ask, "Its only coffee. Not a big deal." I'm kind of worried where this is going. Serious Suga always turns into sentimental Suga which quickly become sappy Suga and eventually sniffling Suga. I try to avoid all of those versions at all costs.   
  
"This is the first time I've seen you actually try to make a friend," he admits, and I can see his smile start to turn watery.   
  
"No no, we aren't doing this." I put my hand up to stop him as he tries to wrap me in a hug. "You aren't turning all touchy on me. Go home."  
  
"I'm just so happy for you," his voice shakes and he manages to maneuver around my arms and squeeze in a quick hug before I push him off.   
  
"Go home Suga!" I push him towards the door as he starts spouting off stories about how far I've come from the shitty brat he roomed with in our first year of college and I hear a distinct sniff as he undoubtedly starts to tear up.   
  
I manage to push him through the front door, shutting and locking it as he continues his monologue all the way down the hallway, and, in that moment, I'm grateful that Hinata can't hear him.   
  
***  
  
The feeling of restlessness that settles in your bones in the hours before you have to be somewhere, be it a casual social outing or an event you've been looking forward to for months, is a natural enemy to mankind.   
  
Friday morning passes like each of those before it, slow and monotone, with me arriving back home to an empty apartment around 3pm. It took about ten minutes of me wandering aimlessly around the living room, too anxious to sit, for me to give up and pick out some halfway decent clothes before jumping in the shower.   
  
Even after taking as long as I can standing underneath the steaming jets of water, pretending that I can see the threads of tension leaking from my shoulders and swirling into the drain, and actually taking the time to run a comb through my hair (not that the sleek black strands actually need it), I still find myself sitting fully dressed on my sofa, two hours too early, foot nervously tapping against the wood frame.   
  
As with anyone with too much time on their hands, I start to overanalyze the situation.   
  
First of all, I haven't considered how this coffee excursion (it's not a date no matter how much Suga and Oikawa insist on referring to is as such) is actually going to go. Are we walking there together? Of course we are he doesn't know where the cafe is. What are we going to talk about? _How_ are we going to talk? It's not like Natsu will be there to translate this time (or maybe she will be?).  
  
Secondly, I don't even know what Hinata is like. I've created such a clear picture of him in my mind but my imaginary Hinata is not the real him. What if I'm disappointed with the real thing? What if he's disappointed with me? We could both end up in a fruitless friendship with both of us want out but neither wanting to upset the other leading to years of fabricated lies and unhappiness. Or worse, he could just flat out hate me. It wouldn't be surprising considering my track record.    
  
Which leads me to number three; I'm an awful conversationalist. The only person I talk to frequently is Suga and that's only because he hasn't allowed me to ruin our friendship yet.  I doubt anyone other than Suga would willingly put up with my shit after they'd had enough.   
  
The sharp ringing of my phone interrupts my internal monologue, and I'm grateful since it was quickly turning into an internal pity party. I pick it up from the arm of the couch, answering and lifting it to my ear, expecting Suga's voice but instead being greeted by one much deeper.   
  
"Hi is this Kageyama Tobio?" The voice asks, friendly despite its baritone.   
  
"Uh, yes? Who's this?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Azumane Asahi, I'm a friend of Oikawa Tooru. He told me you were interested in tutoring in sign language?" I totally forgot about meeting with Oikawa's friend. The information kind of got lost amongst everything else.   
  
"Oh uh, yeah. I mean, yes! Yes I'm interested." Eloquent, as usual.   
  
"Great! I'm available Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Does that work for you?" He's chipper, kind of like an overgrown puppy. I wonder how someone who seems so genuinely sweet can be a friend of Asskawa.   
  
"I work at the rec center until 3pm. I'm free afterwards," I explain, still dazed by the sudden onset of the conversation. I usually require a period of preparation before socializing, especially with strangers.   
  
"Perfect! The school I work at is very close to there. We can meet at the rec center if that's easy for you. Say Tuesday at 3:30 and we can bang out the details?"   
  
"That's fine," I say, leaning forward to scribble a reminder of the meeting on a stray napkin left on the table.   
  
"Great! See you then Kageyama!" He chimes, hanging up before I can respond. It's not until I toss my phone onto the table next to the napkin that his words actually sink in.   
  
Sign language? That's what Oikawa meant by learning to "talk to this kid properly"? I have to admit it's actually a great idea. Who knew Oikawa was capable of being a decent friend? I guess I'll have to thank him later, through gritted teeth of course.   
  
***   
  
The next hour and a half is probably the slowest of my life, but eventually 6pm rolls around and I find myself standing awkwardly in the hallway, having just knocked on Hinata's apartment door. My fist is still poised in the air when I realize just how stupid I am.   
  
Knocking on the deaf kid's door. Good job Tobio. You really nailed that one.   
  
I consider texting him, but I'm spared by the door opening and his spiky orange mop popping out. He has a scarf wrapped around his face and if I didn't know any better I would think he was just a ball of fluff atop a pile of clothes.   
  
"Hey!" He chirps, wrestling with the scarf to pull it away from his mouth. "Ready?"  
  
"Uh, y-yeah," I stutter, shoving my hands in the pockets of my coat, and his eyes light up as he smiles.   
  
We make our way down the stairwell and onto the street outside silently, but it isn't awkward like empty silences between acquaintances usually are. I can feel an excited sort of electricity buzzing around him, like the night is a current through his skin. He stops just outside of the building and fishes around in one of the deep pockets of his coat. He looks kind of silly to be honest, such a small boy in such a big coat, tiny legs sticking out underneath the hem.   
  
He pulls out a pocket notepad and pen, quickly scribbling something and offering it to me, his bubbly scrawl familiar.   
  
**Wanna play a game as we walk?**    
  
A game? I have no idea what he has in mind but I figure it can't hurt. I hold my hand out for the pen but he just shakes his head, tapping the plastic lid against his lips. He can read lips.   
  
"Okay," I answer, holding the notepad out as he reaches for it, starting to scribble again. As he concentrates on the instructions he's writing his tongue pokes out a little from the corner of his mouth. He scans it when he finishes, checking it over before handing it back to me.   
  
**I used to play this with Natsu all the time when we were little. We called it Skip Jump. One of us will throw a pebble on the sidewalk and the other has to jump to it and whoever makes the most jumps to their pebble before we get there wins! But you have to make it all the way to the pebble for the jump to count.  
**  
Hinata already has a pebble in his hands when I look back up from the paper, a wicked glint in his eyes. He drops it into my hand, his fingertips brushing quickly against my palm, feather light, leaving a trail like fire juxtaposed with the chill air.    
  
I turn it over a few times, feeling the cold stone against my burning skin. How far do I throw it? This kid can't be more than 5'3 so he probably can't jump that far, right?  
  
I toss the pebble in front of us, aiming for about eight feet though it ends up going much farther than I mean, but Hinata just turns to me and smirks. He backs up, crouching a little before lunging forward at lightning speed, his sneakers making a dull thump as they land on the concrete past the pebble. He turns to me and winks, the twist of his smile almost devilish as he leans down to sweep the pebble up.    
  
He holds up a finger, signaling that he has one point, and my jaw is on the ground. He's so small but he jumped _so far_ , and I can tell by his grin that I haven't even seen a fraction of what he can do.   
  
I thought this game was kind of silly at first but Hinata has definitely awakened my competitive spirit. I stride forward and slap my hand on top of his spiky mess of hair, leaning down until I'm almost eye level. "Throw the pebble," I growl, completely ready to win this game with all of my worth.   
  
He tosses it and it lands about three concrete squares ahead of us. Piece of cake. I push up the sleeves of my jacket, mockingly psyching myself up and I see Hinata hide a giggle behind his fist from the corner of my eye. Then I jump. It feels kind of silly, my legs out in front of me, grappling for a hold on the sidewalk as far forward as they can reach, but the slap of rubber against the ground is oddly satisfying.   
  
"Yeah!" I shout, throwing my hands up and turning to gloat, but Hinata just folds his arms and shakes his head, biting back a laugh. I look down and find the pebble about six inches ahead of where I've landed. "Oh you've _got_ to be kidding me," I hiss, and Hinata doubles over, laughing and clutching his stomach.   
  
I snatch the pebble from the sidewalk, muttering obscenities to myself as I toss it forward. I don't launch it too far, just barely ahead of where I think he can reach. I want him to get close. I want him to taste the same bitter defeat of almost making it as I did.   
  
He looks up at me, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and striding forward to the square I'm standing on. He claps me on the shoulder before jumping, that wicked glint back in his eyes. Once again he makes it to the pebble without even trying. What the hell is this kid? He can't be human.   
  
The game continues in much the same way until we end up in front of the cafe, panting and sweaty despite the brisk winter air. Final score count: 11-5. Hinata wins.   
  
He holds up his pad of paper illustrating this fact as I open the cafe door and shove him inside. I can't believe I let this pint-sized ginger beat me. It seems I lose a shred of my dignity with every encounter with him. He taps his pen underneath the score where he's written something else.   
  
**Loser pays!**  
  
He shoots me a smug smile and I groan, dragging my hand down the front of my face.   
"Fine, fine," I agree, pointing him towards the table Suga and I usually sit at. I wanted to pay anyway, but now that Hinata told me to it kind of irks me. Childish, I know. I order us both a coffee and carry the mugs back to the table.   
  
I like to think that the way a person fixes their coffee says a lot about them. I like cream and two sugars so that it's not too sweet and still has its bitter edge, just like me. But Hinata, he's a whole different animal. He dumps about half a cup of sugar into the dark depths of his mug, but no cream. Sharp and sweet. I guess I'll have to wait and see how accurate my theory is.   
  
The conversation starts out slow, mostly just him giving me a hard time about our Skip Jump game, but talking comes easily. I was afraid that the notepad situation would make things awkward and clunky but his motions are fluid, probably from years of experience, and I get used to it quickly. It's almost as if he's speaking the words from the page to me directly.   
  
He tells me about how his sister is always bothering him to get out of the apartment more often and how she'll be thrilled to know about this, and I tell him that Suga is the exact same. They'd probably get along amazingly as some sort of weird mother hen duo, going around and playing mommy for every lost soul they find.   
  
He brings up the song I wrote and I start to tense up, the whole encounter not yet something I can laugh about, but he doesn't patronize. He starts to ask about my music and I actually find myself opening up little by little. I haven't talked to anyone like this other than Suga for years. It feels surprisingly good.   
  
I don't know how long we sit there, I don't check the time, very careful to keep eye contact with Hinata so he can understand me as best as possible, but about four mugs each (we switched to tea after a while) and twelve pages later (front and back), I can see his eyes start to droop.   
  
"I'm gonna go pay the tab. You look like you're about to pass out on the table," I tell him, an unfamiliar softness to my tone. He nods, yawning and gathering up his stuff as I make my way to the front counter. The barista's name tag catches my eye as he pulls up my bill; "Daichi". Ah, so this is the mysterious coffee man who's stolen Suga's heart. He's a bit on the short side but he seems sturdy, and if Suga likes him then he must be all right. I don't say anything to him, just nod as I hand him the money and turn towards the door.   
  
The walk home is much less eventful than earlier but I think I prefer it this way. It’s just us on the empty street, the air cold but our hearts warm, the night sky clear and twinkling high above us. I've always been infatuated with the stars. They're so vast and so bright yet they appear to us as nothing more than a speck of light in the far unreachable distance. They burn with so much passion but we see them as inconsequential. As something so constant that we've never asked why they're there or if they'll be gone one day, giving off a cold light despite their heat.   
  
From my position on the sidewalk looking up the telephone wires and stars appear like notes on a staff, twinkling out their song to the beat of our shoes on the pavement. My gut twinges the way it always does when I feel inspiration start to tug at me.   
  
"Hinata," I mumble, still staring upwards, but he just continues to walk forward, face tucked down into his scarf. I reach out and catch the sleeve of his coat between my fingers and he looks up at me, eyes wide and head cocked as if to ask "what's wrong?".  
  
"Can I borrow your paper?" He nods, reaching into his pocket and handing me the pad and pen. I take it and Hinata watches curiously at my elbow as I draw out some crude lines and dot it with the notes that are racing through my mind.   
  
I fill the page, tearing it out when I'm done and shoving it in the front pocket of my coat as I hand the notebook back to Hinata. He smiles softly and looks at me expectantly, speaking with his eyes.   
  
"Oh. Uh...the stars looked kind of like music notes. It's stupid, I know, but sometimes I get ideas from dumb things like that." I look down, scuffing the front of my sneakers against the concrete. I look up through my lashes, not completely lifting my head, and Hinata just smiles. But it's so much more than just a smile, it's a reassurance. That small twinge of his lips is letting me know that he doesn't think I'm dumb, that the thing I'm most self conscious about isn't silly in his eyes. I know I'm probably blowing it way out of proportion, he's just being polite, but it makes my heart soar with a sort of lightness I haven't felt for years.   
  
We walk the rest of the way home and Hinata bids me goodnight between our doors, thanking me for paying for the coffee.   
  
"Next time I won't lose Skip Jump," I say, and he laughs before waving and closing his door. As soon as I'm in my apartment I make my way straight to the bedroom, tossing my jacket and shoes onto the floor and collapsing on top of the covers still in my jeans, falling asleep almost immediately.   
  
That night I dream of sweet black coffee swirling with the light of a thousand stars, but this time the stars are warm, and the light they give off is a golden glow spreading through my chest. And my heart is a bird, soaring on wings that haven't been so far stretched in years. I'm not usually one for symbolism or poetry but I feel like if someone was to write a poem about this feeling it would definitely put the beauty of the stars to shame.   
  
***  
  
Azumane Asahi is not a man, he's a monster. I'm not a short guy myself but Asahi towers over me by at least four inches. And aside from that he's _built_. He's terrifying on the outside, with his goatee and his hair pulled into a loose bun, but when you actually talk to him the intimidating façade melts away instantly. He's shy yet friendly. He's like a sour patch kid, with a sour outside but a sweet gummy center, as weird as that sounds. I never thought I'd meet anyone more timid than Suga yet here he is standing in front of me, all six feet of him.   
  
"So you're Tooru's friend?" He asks as I lead him towards one of the rooms in the rec center that aren't used around this time of day.   
  
"I wouldn't call us friends," I mumble, momentarily forgetting that I'm supposed to be polite to this guy. And I probably shouldn't give Oikawa such a hard time since he _did_ set this up for me. Being courteous doesn't exactly come easy for me.   
  
It's Tuesday, and in the three days since we went to coffee I haven't really seen Hinata at all. We've texted a bit, and I guess the average person would call it casually conversational, and I know I don't know him too well so I don't really have a basis of comparison, but he's seemed a little off.   
  
Asahi starts to explain the basics of sign language grammar to me, being very extensive with his examples, but my mind can't help but wander.   
  
Hinata's text replies started out bubbly and fun but gradually they've started to shadow my own; short and hollow. Maybe he thinks that I'm uninterested and so he's emulating that? But I'm not uninterested; I'm just not good at conversation. And I don't know how to tell him that without coming off as needy or overbearing.   
  
This is why I rely on Suga so heavily. He usually helps with my social adeptness but every time I bring Hinata up he gets this little knowing smirk on his face or a lilt to his tone that makes me uneasy. What does that smirk mean? What does he know? Whatever it is I don't like it.   
  
Then again this might have nothing to do with me at all. Hinata could be sick or upset about something. It could be something personal that he doesn't feel like sharing with the guy across the hall that he's spoken face to face with all of two times. For some reason that thought makes my gut twist.   
  
I train my focus back onto Asahi's explanations. He's amazing at what he does and he's so thorough that I've barely missed anything during my internal monologuing. I try not to think about how this is probably because he's used to working with children. I don't want to know what that says about me to be perfectly honest.   
  
"I'm going to give you a few pamphlets on the alphabet, numbers, and basic phrases so that you can practice them at home. That way we won't have to waste time on vocabulary during our sessions and we can just work on how to formulate sentences," he explains, digging through his book bag and pulling out a spiral bound booklet, handing it to me with a gentle smile.   
  
"Okay. I guess I'll try to get as much of it down as I can by Thursday," I answer, rifling through the pages of illustrations. It seems straightforward enough. Just a lot of memorization, which is nothing I can't handle.   
  
"Then that does it for today!" Asahi stands, extending his hand to shake mine and smiling warmly. "I'll see you Thursday then, Kageyama. It was nice to meet you." His large hand envelopes my own and I feel like a small child clutching onto the fingers of their parent.   
  
"Oh, yeah. You too." It doesn't sound very sincere.   
  
I walk him out to the front doors but stop before we step outside, suddenly remembering a question I had.   
  
"I forgot to ask, how much do you want paid for all of this?" Was that a rude way to phrase it? I'm not sure, but I guess it's too late now.   
  
"Oh! I forgot too, thanks for reminding me. Tooru said to tell you it's all taken care of," he relays, waving his hand in front of him.   
  
"Well you can tell Oikawa to shove it. How much?" Setting this up for me was enough of a favor; I don't need for him to pay for it too.   
  
"He also said you'd say that," he chuckles, and I can't help but think it sounds a little nervous, "And I'm supposed to tell you to consider it a gift from a very dear friend."  
  
"I'll show him just how _dear_ a friend he is," I hiss, opening the door and motioning for Asahi to step outside. He gives another nervous chuckle before waving and heading towards the parking lot.   
  
***  
  
A parent's love is something I've always seen as eternal. I believe that on some level, every parent loves their child. But a parent's approval? Their respect, or support, or general fondness for their child? Now that's something that is never constant.   
  
But it's a double edged sword, because the lack of these aspects from a parent leads to a lack of them from the child. The number one way to make sure your kid will never want you in their life is to not support them through something that's important to them.   
  
With the rising sun of Friday morning comes the shrill ringing of my cell phone that leaves a sinking feeling in my gut and a sour taste in my mouth that tells me it isn't a call I want to take. But I do anyway. Guilt is a real bitch.   
  
"Hey Mom."  
  
"Tobio darling! You haven't called your mother in such a long time I was starting to get worried," her voice is the same as always, that fake falsetto that moms always use when talking to other adults they want to impress. Except I'm her son, not some over involved soccer mom calling to ask her to cover snacks at the next meet.   
  
"I'm fine Mom. I'm a grown man," I mumble, rolling over to rifle through the drawer next to my bed to find some Tylenol before a migraine has the chance to set in.   
  
"Well even grown men need their mother's sometimes sweetie." I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying that Suga has been a better mom in the last five years than she was for the last twenty three. But for once I let my sarcastic asshole side be controlled by my much less prominent non confrontational side.   
  
"So, honey, how have you been?" She prods, going through the formalities that will keep up her appearances of being a caring and involved part of my life.   
  
"Same as usual. Nothing special." I roll out of bed and start to pace the room, the nerves that always come at the thought of my parents starting to jitter through my limbs.   
  
"Tobi, baby, talk to me. Let me in a little. I haven't gotten to talk to you in so long." I want to ask her whose fault that is but that ever present guilt starts to wash over me again. She can call me any host of pet names she wants, but Tobi always gets to me. It has a way of pulling up images of younger thoughts and better days.   
  
"I'm fine, Mom, really. You don't have to worry," I tell her, my voice soft but my walls still half up.   
  
"Have you made any friends lately? Any nice girls?" I tense. There's no way I'm telling her about Hinata. Not now, not ever. I learned my lessons about introducing friends to my parents many years ago and I don't plan on ever repeating those mistakes. Any friends, male or female, platonic or otherwise, don't get brought home to my family.   
  
"No. I'm kind of focused on work right now." It comes out a bit snide. We have very different views on what my "work" is.   
  
"Well maybe you should take it easy for a while honey," she trills, and I can hear the sickly sweet smile curling on her lips, "you can't stay a bachelor forever and you aren't getting any younger." She means it as a harmless tease but I guess I'm a bit overly sensitive to this topic and I can feel my annoyance rising.   
  
"I have to get ready for work so I'll talk to you later," I say, trying my best to end this as quickly and cleanly as possible.   
  
"Oh sweetie don't hang up yet, your dad wants to say hello," she singsongs and I can hear muffled talking on the other end of the line ("Toshi dear come talk to Tobio" "Can't you see I'm busy Kanami?"). There's a bit of shuffling but eventually my father's gruff voice comes to the phone. If Mom's voice is like a wind chime, trying hard to be calming but instead just disrupting the peace, then Dad's is like the clap of thunder, loud, commanding, and warning that a storm is on the horizon.   
  
"Tobio," he growls, not unlike the way I often do, "how have you been?"  
  
"Fine," I answer, "sir," I add as an afterthought as he huffs. "And you?"   
  
"Still hanging around with the same crowd then?" He asks, completely disregarding my forced pleasantries. Not that I'm surprised.   
  
"That's not really any of your business," I snap, not wanting to play these games today.   
  
"What my son does will always be my business," he counters, "just tell me you aren't still hanging around that Sugawara boy."  
  
("Toshi, dear, don't.")  
  
"I don't think it is, to be perfectly honest," I hiss.   
  
"I expect you to speak to me with more respect, young man." My blood is boiling now, building up to the eruption that comes every time my heart meets that thunder voice.   
  
"You know what dad? You can't pick and choose what parts of my life you want to be involved in and which you don't. Especially when you only seem concerned with the parts you don't approve of." I can hear him suck in a breath to retort but I cut him off before he has the chance. "I'm done with this conversation. Like I told Mom, I have to get to work."  
  
I hang up and throw my phone across the room. It makes a heavy booming sound as it collides with the wall and falls to the carpet, and I mirror its actions from across the room. The burst of fire leaks from my bones and I can feel the all too familiar shaking start in my hands. My breathing is shallow as I bury my head between my knees, trying my best to calm my pulse and not succumb to the anxiety that talking to my father always plants in my chest. My fists are clenched so hard that my fingernails draw blood from my palms but I ignore the feeling with a twisted sort of nostalgia that only comes with behavior learned out of desperation.   
  
It takes what I estimate to be about an hour for me to calm down, breathing ragged until the shivers are gone from my limbs and a fine dust of salt on my cheeks is the only sign that anything is out of the ordinary.   
  
I call in to work, already late and not feeling up to it after such a shitty morning, opting instead to pour a bowl of cereal and wrap myself in a blanket on the living room sofa.   
  
Its a few hours before I retrieve my phone from the floor of my bedroom, only one new crack adding to the spider web fractures spread across its surface, and I find myself wondering how alike we would look if I was stripped down to nothing but my fragile heart.   
  
I consider calling Suga for a moment. He always helps me calm down after talks with my parents since he's the only other person to know everything I've gone through with them since he was actually involved in some of it. In the end I decide against it, opening up a blank text message instead.   
  
**To: Hinata  
Hey you want to grab lunch or something?**  
  
I just really need to go outside before the bare walls of my apartment start to constrict around me as I dwell on the morning's conversation and I'd rather not go by myself. It feels kind of wrong, using Hinata's company for my own sick sort of therapy, but I try not to think of it that way. Maybe it would make me less of a douchebag if I don't acknowledge how douchey the situation seems.    
  
**From: Hinata  
I'm really sorry but I'm actually on my way to the train station right now. I'm going to be out of town for about two weeks. I'd love to go when I get back though!  
  
** Two weeks? It's already been a full week since we went to coffee and it felt long enough by itself. I can't really imagine two more just like it. I know we aren't really that close but I find myself craving Hinata's attention more and more. I guess I just really enjoyed myself last Friday, not that I'd ever admit it out loud.   
  
**To: Hinata  
No problem. Have a safe trip.**  
  
If I can't use him to distract myself I'll just have to do it some other way. I pull out the pamphlets and worksheets Asahi gave me at our first two sessions, busying myself with the pages of gestures to memorize.   
  
I start to imagine how surprised Hinata will be if I can sign at least a little bit by the next time we hang out. The mental image of those bright eyes round with a mixture of surprise and admiration providing me with a better distraction than I could've asked for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll finish the next chapter. It's kind of slow going right now but I'll try to keep it at a steady pace.  
> Thanks!


	3. How To Catch Flies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We built our get away up in a tree we found.  
> We felt so far away but we were still in town.  
> Now I remember watching that old tree burn down  
> I took a picture that I don't like to look at.
> 
> Well, all these times they come and go  
> And alone don't seem so long  
> Over ten years have gone by  
> We can't rewind,  
> We're locked in time  
> But you're still mine
> 
> -Jack Johnson

When I was twelve years old my parents took a trip south to visit some family on my mother's side, leaving me home alone with plenty of money for food and a sense of responsibility balancing precariously on my bony shoulders.   
  
The first day was perfect. I did what any twelve year old boy would do; watched whatever TV channels I wanted, ate as many sweets as I could find, and practiced my guitar as loud as I could. I was free; an uncaged bird able to flap his wings and sing his songs, but that feeling only lasted so long.   
  
The excitement had faded to a dull drumming by the second day, accompanied by a stomachache and a confused circadian rhythm. And by the third day, I was wandering around the house like a lost puppy, lonely and ready for someone to come around and whisk away my empty loneliness.   
  
My parents were gone for five days total, and when they returned everything went back to normal; no more staying up late or whining at the door for someone to come satiate my need for human companionship.   
  
Those five long days ended, but that feeling of endless wandering remained. It wasn't as pronounced but it was always there, nagging at the back of my skull. As I got older the empty house became a metaphor for an empty world, devoid of people. I had Suga who played the part of Mom and Dad, showing up once in a while to soften the loneliness, but for the most part I've remained a lost and forgotten puppy for years.   
  
Until Hinata. He's like the sunshine hiding behind the front door of my empty world, spilling inside as the door cracks open little by little, golden and _warm_. So warm.   
  
And I feel so stupid, feeling so attached to this guy I've barely gotten to know, but I can't help it. Part of me is just drawn to him like a bee to honey and no matter how much I try I can't stop the buzzing in my chest.   
  
I can't figure out if it's one of my fleeting obsessions, like my love for the way the water reflects the sun at a certain hour of day, or if it's something that's going to stick, but if I'm completely honest with myself I don't think I _want_ to shake the feeling. I've never wanted a friend this badly.   
  
If five days without my parents was difficult, two weeks without Hinata was _agony_. We texted a bit, but he seemed busy so I left him alone as best I could, restlessness humming in my bones all the while.   
  
I'm in my apartment, finally getting to the music notes I'd scribbled while walking home with Hinata, cleaning them up and plucking a few test chords on the guitar, when I hear the jingle of keys and his door opening across the hall. My heart speeds up and my fingers slip from the guitar strings.   
  
"Fuck," I spit, setting the guitar down and rubbing my palms across my eyes. I shouldn't be acting like this, it's pathetic. I'm angry at myself and I'm angry at my goddamn heart that won't stop fluttering and my palms that won't stop sweating.   
  
It's not like I can see him now, the guy _literally_ just stepped into his apartment after a long trip. I'd be nothing but a bother. Not to mention I'd look like a clingy pathetic loser, which I don't want to admit no matter how true it is. I have to keep up my hard and cold exterior even though it's slowly crumbling through my fingers with every thought of bouncing orange spikes.   
  
Despite all of that, I can feel my fingertips itching, wanting to grab my phone and ask if he's home, if he's busy, if he had a good time, if he wants to hang out. But I don't. Apparently I still have at least a shred of self control.   
  
Self control that I realize isn't needed when my phone lights up and buzzes on the wooden tabletop. I'd like to say I don't fling myself across the arm of the sofa to grab it and almost topple over the side, but I do. My fingers fly across the screen as I unlock it and open the message.   
  
**From: Sugamama  
Pepperoni or sausage pizza?**  
  
My heart sinks. I should've known it wasn't Hinata as he's probably taking a well needed nap right now. I tap out a quick response, my fingers hitting the screen a little harder than necessary.   
  
**To: Sugamama  
Pepperoni. And some root beer**  
  
I'd like something stronger, maybe a straight shot of vodka to make me chill the hell out, but nothing goes better with pizza than root beer.   
  
**From: Sugamama  
Breadsticks?  
  
To: Sugamama  
That’s a stupid question  
**  
He knows the pizza night routine. He knows _me_ (better than I know myself, probably). I always end up eating more breadsticks than pizza.    
  
Suga shows up about twenty minutes later, pushing the door open with the familiar rustling of plastic bags, and announcing himself.   
  
"We're heeeere!" He steps into the living room, flashing that familiar starlight smile at me, carrying two pizza boxes and setting them on the coffee table. I start to clear away my music sheets and stray pencils when I notice there's only pizza.   
  
"Where's the breadsticks? And the soda?" I ask, looking around to find the extra box and two liter that obviously isn't there.   
  
"Oh! Daichi has the breadsticks. He forgot the soda in the car and ran back down to grab it," he explains, opening up a box and handing me a greasy slice of our favorite pizza.   
  
"Oh?" I raise my eyebrow as I take the slice from him. He hadn't mentioned bringing Daichi over. Not that I mind, but I haven't actually formally met him yet. They started dating officially about three days ago, and since Suga doesn't have the best relationship with his parents, not unlike myself, we're basically each other's only family so I guess this is his version of bringing his boyfriend home to meet the folks.   
  
"That's okay isn't it?" He asks tentatively, his smile fading a little.   
  
"S'fine," I mumble around a bite of saucy bread and cheese, earning a disapproving glare from Suga. He gets up and makes his way towards the kitchen, returning shortly after with a roll of paper towels from the counter. He rips one off and I swear he considers dabbing the corner of my mouth himself, I can see the thought ghost across his eyes, but he just holds it out to me with a quirk of his lips.   
  
"Knock knock!" The voice that calls out isn't completely unfamiliar but I'm used to hearing it read out my coffee order and tell me how much change I'm due. Daichi pokes his head into the living room, a box of breadsticks in one hand and a plastic bag swinging back and forth from his elbow.   
  
"Daichi don't carry the bag like that you're going to cut off your circulation," Suga coos, standing to take the bag and set the soda on the table with the rest of the food.   
  
"Nah I'm fine," he smiles, giving Suga a look that I can only call "lovey-dovey". Suga returns it, and I just watch from my seat on the couch, chewing slowly. I've heard about the way couples act in the early stages of relationships but I've never actually seen it up close. I'd expect to be uncomfortable but instead I find myself smiling at the silent exchange.   
  
"Oh!" Suga exclaims, breaking eye contact and turning back to me. I'm quick to wipe all traces of the smile from my face. I may be a sappy shit inside but Suga doesn't need to know. "I forgot! Daichi, this is Kageyama. Kageyama, Daichi."  
  
Daichi smiles at me as he extends his hand towards mine, it's crooked and so wide that the bridge of his nose wrinkles, and as I grasp his hand to shake it I understand why Suga fell so hard so fast. "It's nice to finally meet you."  
  
"Y-yeah," I stutter, "you too."   
  
Suga beams as he grabs a piece of pizza and another paper towel and offers it to Daichi who takes a place next to me on the sofa. He grabs a piece for himself and settles cross legged on the ground opposite us, the coffee table in the middle.   
  
We eat silently for a few minutes before I realize that I should probably prompt a conversation since this is _my_ apartment and _my_ best friend after all. Reading social cues has never been my forte and I don't see that changing anytime soon.   
  
"So, uh...Daichi," I start, having absolutely no idea where to take the question. I look to Suga for help but he just nods his head, prompting me to go on. Shit. I open my mouth to speak again but I'm interrupted by a quick knock at the door.   
  
"Are you expecting someone?" Suga asks, shooting me a concerned look as if he shouldn't be here.   
  
"No," I say, standing and making my way towards the front door. I can feel Suga following close behind, probably coming to make sure I'm not going to be axe murdered in the entryway.   
  
"Ask who it is," he prompts, grabbing my wrist as I reach for the handle. I shrug him off and grumble. It's probably a Girl Scout or something.   
  
I pull the door open, and it's not a Girl Scout, or an axe murderer for that matter, even though an axe to the chest might feel better than the twisting feeling in my gut right now. Hinata's orange spikes bounce as he tilts his head to see Suga standing behind me, smiling and waving at him, rocking back on his heels.   
  
"Hinata," I breathe, a waver in my voice betraying my fabricated stoicism as it ghosts over my lips.   
  
"Hey!" He chirps, his expression turning apprehensive as he crosses his arms behind his back nervously, giving me a look as if to ask if he's interrupting something.   
  
"No!" A bit too loud there, Tobio. Why don't you try to chill the fuck out for _once in your life_? "Uh, no," I say, softer this time. "Come in."  
  
I move to the side motioning for him to walk past me into the apartment. He nods at Suga as he passes, who then turns to me and nudges my arm with the corner of his mouth pulled up into that smirk that he seems to get every time Hinata is mentioned.   
  
"Shut up," I growl, shutting the door and pushing past him back into the living room to find Hinata and Daichi smiling nervously at each other.   
  
"Oh uh, Daichi this is my neighbor Hinata," I explain, my gaze fixed on the floor because I know if I lift it I won't be able to look anywhere other than the face I've only seen from memories for the past two weeks. And let me say, memories don't do him a justice. There's a certain glow about him that you can only truly appreciate in person.   
  
"You can sit right here," Suga offers, motioning to the seat on the sofa next to Daichi after the two of them have shaken hands. Hinata perches himself on the edge of the cushion, visibly intimidated by the presence of two new faces, and an idea strikes me.   
  
I turn to Hinata, meeting his apprehensive brown eyes, and sign "are you hungry?". He smiles and nods before he realizes what just happened. His eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly, I'm suddenly very aware of the silence in the room around me as Suga and Daichi watch the encounter, then a look of pure joy spreads across his face. I swear he's so excited he starts to bounce, actually _bounce_ , on his cushion.   
  
He starts to sign back, his hands moving around the words with much more dexterity than my own, years of practice under his belt. I'm not sure exactly what he says, but it's somewhere along the lines of "you know how to sign?". I think for a moment, trying to visualize the worksheets I've been studying for the last two and a half weeks before signing a crude version of "I'm learning".  
  
The look in his eyes is so bright, so excited and surprised, that I can only call it gratuitous. I wonder how many people have made an effort to communicate with him this way. His sister and parents of course, but how many _friends_? You can tell by the way his hand moves across his little notebook that he's used to writing out notes to people. And suddenly I'm _inspired_.  Of course I wanted to learn sign language before to make it easier on him to talk to me, but now I'm determined to do it just to make sure that that smile never leaves those lips. That look in his eyes was caused by me and I don't think I've ever been so proud of something before in my life.   
  
The four of us eat our pizza; most of the tension in the room melting away along with the ice in my heart after Hinata's sunshine fills the room, keeping up a casual conversation with me doing my best as an interpreter. We have to resort to the notebook a few times (more than I care to admit) when Hinata uses signs I don't recognize, but we manage.   
  
At some point, without me paying enough attention to stop him, Suga pulls out a dusty monopoly box from underneath the sofa. How it got there I have no idea.   
  
"I'll be the car, Daichi which one do you want?" Suga says, rifling through the tiny metal board pieces and pulling out the car.   
  
"I'm the car," I say, plucking it from his palm and turning it over in my fingers.   
  
"I'll be the boat," Daichi chuckles, taking it as Suga offers the pieces to him in his palm, shooting me a sideways glance that doubles as a lecture on manners. He then extends it to Hinata who plucks the top hat from its resting place atop the shoe.   
  
"I guess I'll be the dog then," he says, setting the rest of the pieces back in their plastic container.   
  
"There's a dog?" I drop the car on the table top and reach for the silver dog Suga sets down on the "Go" space.   
  
"Hey! You said you wanted the car!"  
  
"I didn't know there was a dog." I pick up the dog and run my fingers across the texture of its metal fur. "You can be the car." He just sighs through his nose, shaking his head at me as he pulls out the cards and stacks of paper money.   
  
"Come on Suga, aren't you going to fight for your pooch?" Daichi asks, poking him gently in the ribs.   
  
"I'm not a fighter," he answers, turning to press a quick peck to the tip of Daichi's nose. "Unless it's for you." Disgusting.   
  
"Blegh," Hinata sticks his tongue out, shaking his head and signing "gross".  
  
"You're right. They're awful," I nod. "Hinata wants you to cut the lovey-dovey shit," I grumble, averting my eyes as Suga walks his fingers up Daichi's side, giggling as he squirms.  I'm happy for them, I really am, and I like Daichi, but god couples can really be annoying.   
  
The game is smooth sailing at the beginning, everyone moving their pieces forward and buying whatever they land on, paying measly sums of cash when they land on owned property. Straightforward and simple. It isn't until all of the property cards are owned that things start to heat up.   
  
Hinata somehow manages to snatch up all four railroads and my little dog seemed to really love to travel. Around the fourth time I owe him the railroad monopoly price the transaction earns him a rough push on the shoulder. He retaliates with a flick to my forehead, lifting himself onto his knees to reach.   
  
"You little," I hiss, going in for another jab when Suga grabs my wrist.   
  
"Behave," he says sternly, shooting me a pointed look. Hinata giggles and sticks his tongue out at me. Puny little bastard. If he thinks I won't punch him over paper money then he's dead wrong.   
  
I get my revenge a few turns later when Hinata spends almost all of his cash on hotels for his pink properties right before landing on one of my reds. After that it's all downhill as he sells houses and mortgages properties every turn until he eventually goes bankrupt. He gathers up all of his paper bills, owing me a pretty large sum after his current roll, and tosses them all at my face. "What the-!" I start to yell, but I'm distracted as Hinata dissolves into a fit of giggles and I'm engrossed in the sound that no instrument could ever recreate, no matter how masterful the musician behind it may be. If sunlight had a sound it would be his laugh.   
  
Once everyone quits laughing at Daichi's cheesy "make it rain" jokes, the mental instability that comes with the clock striking 1am setting in, the game continues, the first casualty of war over and done with.   
  
When Suga's finances start to go downhill he and Daichi start negotiating trades and before I know it Daichi has all of his properties, giving him control of the entire last stretch of the board, and Suga is out.   
  
"Hey! What the fuck just happened?" I ask, dumbfounded as Daichi starts to count out houses for his green spaces.   
  
"Business negotiations," Suga smirks.   
  
"Negotiations my ass," I growl. "You're just helping him win!"  
  
Suga shrugs, laying down on the carpet and propping his head against Daichi's thigh so he can watch the rest of the game and I swear I hear a muttered "you can do it, babe".   
  
Fine. That's cool. I can still pull this off. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose at monopoly in my own apartment.   
  
I don't pull it off.   
  
I'm bankrupt after one trip through Daichi's corner of hell.   
  
"Clean this up and get the hell out of my house," I tell him through gritted teeth, gathering up the pizza boxes from where we sat them on the floor and carrying them to the kitchen. I stand against the sink for a few minutes, rubbing the exhaustion out of my eyes and thinking back to how entranced I was by the music that flowed from between Hinata's lips.   
  
I want to write a song about it, but nothing I could compose will ever come close to the real thing. Even the most gorgeous melody on earth would pale in comparison to what I heard here today. Does he know how beautiful he sounds? Does he understand that he is an instrument that no musician can dream of mastering?  
  
By the time I make my way back into the living room Daichi is sliding the dusty box back underneath the couch and gently nudging Suga awake from where he's dozed off on the carpet.   
  
"I'm going to drive him home," Daichi whispers, pulling him up as he rubs sleepily at his drooping eyes. "Thanks for tonight. It was fun."  
  
"Yeah," I shake his hand before he half carries Suga out the front door. I turn around, ready to grab a blanket and fall into the comfort of my bed when I notice the tiny orange fluff ball curled up on the corner of my sofa, snoring lightly.   
  
I consider waking him, getting close enough to nudge his shoulder before I think against it. He's probably exhausted from his trip and he looks so comfortable, his eyes moving quickly beneath his eyelids as he dreams. I wonder what he's seeing. What does a boy who has the universe inside of his smile see when he closes his eyes at night? I guess that's an answer for another time.   
  
I grab an extra quilt from the closet and drape it over him, lightly tucking the corner before dragging myself to my room and falling like a brick onto the mattress. It's probably the early morning hours digging their fingers into my sleep deprived brain, but as I drift off I swear that my usually icy apartment feels warmer somehow.   
  
***  
  
Living alone makes you realize all of the things you took for granted as a kid. Instead of coming home to clean laundry folded and put away and dinner on the table you come home to more chores and a day that lasts longer than it feels like twenty four hours should ever stretch. But today something is different. When my eyes start to flutter open somewhere around midmorning, the gritty feeling of a late night still sitting underneath my lids, I figure it out. There's a distinct sound of bacon sizzling in a skillet and the smell of freshly brewing coffee wafting in from the kitchen.   
  
It's all very disorienting, my mind wandering back to years ago when I'd wake on Saturday mornings to Mom's pancakes and fresh berry syrup reducing on the stove. But my mother isn't here; she hasn't made me breakfast in five years, and the softly humming voice I hear is definitely not hers.   
  
Hinata slept here last night after the monopoly battle, and now he's in my kitchen cooking breakfast. Sometimes the truth is even more confusing than sleepy delusions.   
  
I roll out of bed, trying to gracefully slip out from under the covers but instead wrapping myself in them, falling to the carpet as a cushioned burrito. After furiously kicking my legs to disentangle them I stand, taking a moment to change into a shirt that doesn't smell like pizza sauce, and slip into the kitchen.   
  
Hinata turns towards me when I enter, pointing to the pot of coffee on the counter with the end of his spatula. His hair is messier than usual, clothes crumpled from sleeping on my sofa, and I can't help but think how good he looks. Usually when people wake up they look little better than a zombie, but Hinata looks chipper and alert.   
  
I pour in cream and sugar and lift the steaming mug of coffee to my lips when I realize something. I tap Hinata lightly on the shoulder and try to sign "I didn't know I had bacon," but I just point to the skillet in place of the actual sign for bacon since I don't know it.   
  
"It's mine," he replies, signing slowly so my still fuzzy morning brain can follow the movements.  
  
It's his? From his apartment? That means he went home and came back just to make breakfast at my place. The realization washes over me like a bucket of ice water to the face. I think we might have officially gone from friendly neighbors to actual friends. I shouldn't be as excited as I am, but it seems like a tiny victory to me. I made this friend all on my own. He wasn't forced to speak to me because we were roommates or because our parents were friends. For once in my life I made an effort to get along with another person and it _worked._  
  
"So who won last night?" He asks, holding the spatula awkwardly with his fingers as he tries to use both hands to speak.   
  
I scowl into my coffee, remembering Suga's shady deals and my less than graceful demise as Hinata plates the bacon next to some scrambled eggs and hands me a fork. We make our way to the coffee table in the living room, sitting cross legged on the carpet, and I start to recount Daichi's capitalist exploits, opting to speak out loud instead of stuttering over signs I don't yet know.  
  
He sniggers behind his fork when I tell him about how Daichi barely avoided my properties time and time again, the giggles turning into snorting laughter when I theorize that he's some kind of secret high stakes gambler whose specialty is dice manipulation. My recounting of a property swapping deal with Suga earns a disapproving head shake and a slick jab at my negotiating skills.   
  
"Shut up and eat your breakfast," I jab when he dissolves into giggles again after hearing about my last few turns through Daichiville that washed out my pockets faster than I could mortgage my properties.   
  
We clear the dishes when we're done and I rinse them quickly before returning to the living room, shifting back and forth on my feet, not sure if he's going home now and not sure if I want him to. He's standing by my desk when I enter, the distinct shine of blue plastic in his hands as he turns a CD over with his fingers. Not just any CD. _The_ CD.   
  
He turns to me, a sad sort of apologetic look in his eyes. Setting the case down he asks "do you have-". I have no idea what the last word was, not recognizing the sign as anything I've seen before.   
  
"A what?" I ask, and he repeats himself, but I still can't figure it out. Quickly understanding he reaches for his notebook still discarded on the coffee table and scribbles quickly.   
  
**Do you have a speaker?**  
  
"Oh! Uh, yeah, right over there," I say, pointing to the corner of the room where my guitar leans up against an amp.   
  
"Can I listen?" He signs, pointing again at the plastic case. Listen? How exactly is that going to happen?  
  
"Sure," I shrug, deciding not to ask. I pull the amp over to the desk, turning it low and plugging it into my stereo. I load up the CD and press play, still confused.   
  
Music fills the small space around us; a kind of calmness spreading through me that only comes in melodies. Hinata plops down on the ground in front of the speaker and plants his palm on its front, turning his head to smile at me.   
  
I get it. He's feeling the vibrations of the song, piecing together the beat in his head. I never even considered this was something he could do and I'm dumbfounded. He keeps listening but I don't hear another note, the sound drowned out by the image of Hinata _feeling_ my music. The music I wrote for him, _about_ him. It's entrancing.   
  
At some point he reaches his arm out to me, snapping me back to attention. Unsure, I hold my hand out and he grabs it in his own, my whole arm tingles as he presses my palm to the amp next to his. The vibrations are clear and concise, mapping out each note into a trail of sound.   
  
"Beautiful," he says out loud, and I have to stop myself from saying that the sound of his voice could put the song to shame.   
  
The song ends and he still holds my wrist in his slender fingers, the touch like fire on the ice of my skin. We sit for a few moments, kneeling together on the carpet, before he drops my arm to sign "thank you".  
  
"Yeah, uh, no problem," I stutter, rubbing the back of my neck and staring pointedly at the carpet. Hinata giggles and ruffles my hair, lifting himself onto his knees to reach and completely pulling me out of my sappy thoughts.   
  
"Hey!" I push him lightly on the shoulder in retaliation but it's apparently harder than I mean because he loses his balance, falling backwards onto the carpet and laughing.   
  
He grabs a cushion from the couch and tosses it at my face, my arm shooting up to smack it out of the way right before collision. I'd like to say that there's not a pillow fight. That the two of us, both grown ass men, don't start to wail on each other with couch cushions like middle school girls. I'd like to say that. But I can't.   
  
We both land quite a few good blows to the other's faces before collapsing on the sofa out of breath. He has a dumb smile plastered across his lips and I think back to his cold text responses in the week before and during his trip. I'm not sure what was up but I'm really glad that he seems to be feeling better.   
  
Stretching his arms over his head and yawning he informs me that he should probably head home now, and that Natsu is supposed to stop by later today so he needs to clean before she can yell at him. I walk with him to the entryway and watch as he unlocks his door and slips inside with a wave.   
  
"Beautiful" he had said. He called my song beautiful. If only he knew _why_ it sounded that way. If only he knew how beautiful _he_ is.   
  
***  
  
There are very few things in the world I hate more than Oikawa Tooru's face, but it happens to occupy the same household as Suga so sometimes seeing it is unavoidable. Although I _can_ avoid seeing his awful collection of alien posters and action figures since Suga makes him keep them put up in his bedroom as to "not disturb the guests". Thank goodness.   
  
"Tobiooooo!" Oikawa's voice calls from the sofa as I walk in, not bothering to knock. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I came to see Suga. You know, the only person here I actually like." Does that include myself? Probably.  
  
"Aww you're so mean to me," he pouts, actually pouts, and I scowl.    
  
"Alright, alright that's enough. Play nice you two," Suga tsks, scooting over to make room for me on the cushion. I take my seat and he hands me a controller.   
  
"What are we playing?" I ask, wrapping my hands around the hard plastic handles.   
  
"Smash bros.," he answers, adding an extra player slot on the select screen.   
  
"Nice." My competitiveness doesn't stop at street games and monopoly; I'm vicious at video games.   
  
We play a few rounds, Suga handing Oikawa and I both our asses using Samus until we force him to switch characters. He changes to Princess Peach and we lose even quicker.   
  
"Suga what the hell? Peach is worthless how did you manage that?" I shout, pointing aggressively toward the image of Sonic and Kirby clapping as Peach does a curtsy.   
  
"Hey! She is _not_ worthless. She's a very talented lady who deserves your respect," he counters.   
  
"Maybe you should pick someone better than _Sonic_ ," Oikawa scoffs, shaking his head in mock disapproval.   
  
"Oh and Kirby is better?"  
  
He opens his mouth to argue back but we're interrupted by Suga's phone ringing loudly from his pocket. He lifts it up and I swear all of the color drains from his face instantly.   
  
"Suga-,"  
  
"I have to take this." He stands up, his controller falling from his lap to the couch, and walks quickly from the room. I hear his bedroom door shut from down the hallway as Oikawa and I sit in stunned silence. I've only seen Suga look like that once before and it didn't result in anything good.   
  
"I wonder what that was about," Oikawa says, all hints of sarcasm gone from his voice and replaced with genuine concern.   
  
"It didn't look good," I reply, voice hushed.   
  
"Let's play another round for now. He'll tell us when he comes back."  
  
"Yeah, okay."  
  
We battle again, I win of course, but Suga still doesn't return. I can hear the faint rumble of his voice behind the closed door and it doesn't sound happy.   
  
"You won't beat me this time Tobio," Oikawa teases, clicking through the different color variations for Kirby. He flips through all of them multiple times, not making up his mind, and I realize something strange.   
  
"Why are two of them the exact same color?" I ask, watching the skins flash by.   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"There're two green ones," I explain, pointing at the screen. "That one and the one two clicks after it. They're the same."  
  
"No that one is yellow," he says, clicking to the second green Kirby.   
  
"No it's the same. Don't you see? Green and green."  
  
"Tobio, are you...colorblind?" He asks tentatively, turning to face me on the sofa.   
  
"O-only a little," I admit. "But I know the difference between green and yellow _Asskawa_." At least I thought I did.   
  
"What color is my sweater," he asks, pulling at the fabric. Ugly is what it is. It's a dumb pullover hoodie with a gaudy alien face and peace sign emoji on the front. I wouldn't be surprised if he made it himself.   
  
"Gray."  
  
"This is pink. You are very much more than a _little_ colorblind."  
  
"Yeah, well, what the fuck does it matter?" I snap, suddenly defensive.    
  
"Nothing. S'just interesting is all," he answers, holding his palms up in surrender.   
  
I grunt and pick my controller back up, but we don't get as far as starting another match before Suga reenters the living room. We both turn around on the sofa to see him, eager to know if he's okay and if we can help. His eyes are red as if he's about to cry and I have an intense urge to punch whoever caused it.   
  
"That was my parents," he says, meeting my eyes with his watery gaze. "They want to have dinner with me."  
  
***  
  
College years are notorious for partying and late nights of fuzzy memories where your brain is filled to the brim with a warm buzzing that makes you do things you'd never imagine doing. Or admit things you'd never imagine admitting.   
  
Mine weren't too far off the mark (Suga dragged me to parties constantly hoping I'd make friends), except for one night when the alcohol fog threw every sense into crystal clear precision to the point where I remember the exact smell of the night air filtering in through the tiny dorm window. It had started not unlike the current conversation, with Suga bursting in our room, tears on the brink of escape, telling me he had just spoken to his parents.   
  
Back then I didn't know. I had no idea that the scars across his wrists were not from rescuing stray cats like he had told me (though it's believable coming from him), but instead from countless nights spent alone and scared with nothing inside but dark feelings to let out in less than desirable ways.   
  
We started out nursing a few beers, Suga just wanting to unwind and forget, but the beer didn't cut it and hard alcohol just brought the memories closer to the surface until they broke. And when the dam opened the words were unstoppable.   
  
They started out slow, just low level secrets.   
"My parents didn't approve when I came out."  
"I was fourteen and they said I didn't know myself enough to make that decision."  
A lot of kids go through the same.   
  
Then, as the easier truths loosened his tongue the tougher ones came through.   
"They put me through therapy."  
"My dad called me every slur in the book and wouldn't even look at me most days."  
"I hurt myself a lot."  
I didn't know how to comfort him so I just listened.   
  
By the time his words started to slur and his tears started to fall he spat the rest of the story through his teeth.   
"I ran away two years later."  
"I was homeless and dropped out of school."  
"A social worker picked me up and got me back on track and helped me get my diploma."  
I never wanted to ask why he was a year older than me but in the same year but now I knew. His anger was beautiful, like an erupting volcano spewing its fire towards the endless blue of the sky as if the void could lessen the sting of things far gone and wounds still fresh.   
  
There's not much you can do when your best and only friend shows you every demon that whispers in his ear at night. You can't make it go away; you can't hurt the people who hurt him. Hell, I couldn't even speak.   
  
So I held him. I pulled him into my shoulder and let him cry and scream as much as he wanted. As much as it would take to dull the pain. And I had thought I did a good job. I knew he hadn't escaped the demons but I thought the two of us had done our best to cap them. I was wrong.   
  
As Suga stood in his living room, clutching his cell phone to his chest and trying as hard as he could to keep his tears from falling, I saw those all too familiar demons swimming in his eyes again, free and unchained.   
  
"Dinner?" I ask tentatively, not wanting to make the situation worse with the brash words that usually spill from my mouth.   
  
"Yeah. I don't know why. They didn't say if they wanted to apologize or if they want to know how I've been and I-," he chokes back a sob and squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself. "I'm not sure if I _want_ them to know how I've been. I'm better off without them." If anyone ever tries to convince you that Sugawara Koushi is anything other than a pillar of strength please punch them directly in the face.   
  
"Maybe you should go Koushi," Oikawa says tenderly (yes tenderly. I can't believe it either), "hear them out if they want to apologize, you don't have to forgive them. And if not then show them how well you've done without them."  
  
Suga walks around to the front of the sofa and sits back between us, dropping his head to my shoulder like he had years ago. His hair still smells like coconut, except now it's not accompanied by the burn of tequila. Some things never change.   
  
"Maybe," he mumbles into my shirt, the faint tear drops seeping through my shirt. "I don't think I can do it alone though."  
  
Now I've never been very self sacrificing, or even very involved in the lives of others for that matter, but if there's one person in the world I would do anything for it's the man whose silent tears are warming my skin.   
"I'll go with you."  
  
He lifts his head and meets my gaze, those chocolate eyes swimming with everything he doesn't deserve. "Really?"  
  
"'Course," I shrug, and I'm awarded with his signature starlight smile, something dark still looming quietly behind the shining surface.   
  
"You don't have to," he sniffles, sitting up and rubbing at his nose, eyes slightly puffy.   
  
"I want to."  
  
"We'll look at little Tobio being all sweet," Oikawa drops in before Suga has a chance to start crying again. His words are joking but the look he gives me is of genuine concern for Suga and what I think is appreciation for me. Maybe even respect.   
  
"Yeah, yeah," I say, clapping Suga on the shoulder and handing him back his controller. "Let's kick each other's asses some more."  
  
***  
  
I've always found video games to be therapeutic, a theory that was proven as the weariness in Suga's face started to slowly melt away as he obliterated me on the TV screen (I let him of course).  
  
By the time I head back home he's laughing again, enough of the darkness gone that I start to wonder if it's genuine or if he's just a master at hiding it. Years of practice make putting on a mask almost second nature. I should know.   
  
Shortly after my door closes behind me there comes a small knock and my heart leaps. The monopoly match was last weekend and I haven't really had a chance to see Hinata since. I finally finished and recorded my song from the night we had coffee and I've been dying to show it to him, craving that look in his eyes while he feels the vibrations through his fingers.   
  
But instead of bouncing orange spikes behind my door I'm met with a blond head in need of a new dye job and a face well hidden behind the top screen of a 3DS. I'm a bit disappointed but it's subdued by my confusion.   
  
"Can I-"  
  
"Do you have sugar?" The boy asks, not breaking eye contact with his game.   
  
"Do I...what?" What the hell is going on here?   
  
"Shouyou said you'd have sugar," he answers, looking up for a brief moment to meet my gaze, his eyes oddly feline.   
  
"Oh, so you're Hinata's friend," I mutter, looking over his shoulder towards the open door across the hall where I can see Natsu sitting on the sofa with a matching 3DS in her hands. She lifts her hand to wave at me and I feel myself smile as I return it. "How much does he need?"  
  
"Two cups." His eyes are trained back on his screen, absorbed in whatever game I assume he's playing with Natsu.   
  
"Hold on."  
  
I head into the kitchen, grabbing what's left of the bag of sugar (it should be at least two cups I think. I don't know I don't bake) and head back to the open door. The cat boy looks up as I hand him the paper bag.   
  
"Thanks," he says, turning on his heel to head back across the hall.   
  
"Wait!" I call out, before I actually think about what I'm doing. He turns back around, cat eyes wide. "Sorry, I just...what's your name?" Good job not sounding like an idiot, Tobio. Really nailed it.   
  
Instead of answering he just turns his 3DS around to show me what's on the screen. It's Animal Crossing, his little villager standing in the town square with another villager labeled "Natsu" running in circles around him. "Kenma" hovers over his villager in blue letters. I nod, and he returns the screen to its place three inches from his face.   
  
"I'm Kageyama," I say, extending my hand which he shakes before returning to Hinata's apartment with a soft click of the door.   
  
As strange as this encounter was I'm surprised to find that I'm kind of okay with the sudden increase in my number of acquaintances since meeting Hinata, and I get the vague feeling that there's more to come. I'm not quite sure if the thought is comforting.  
  
He's honey and I'm vinegar, but I think that together we'll be just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GGIakbtmpQ&list=PLtYTKcRzsHhet0KM4BPNhPcMJUYZgIOhE&index=18) is the song Kageyama wrote.


	4. Kids' Say The Darndest Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scar tissue that I wish you saw  
> Sarcastic mister know it all  
> Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause  
> With the birds I'll share  
> With the birds I'll share  
> This lonely view  
> With the birds I'll share  
> This lonely view
> 
> -Red Hot Chili Peppers

I've never been a huge fan of cats, or animals in general. Actually, that's a lie. Animals, cats especially, have never been a huge fan of _me_.   
  
When I was younger my grandmother had an old grumpy cat that I would follow around the house, unsure on my pajama padded feet, until he would find some place high out of my reach to curl up in and nap. That was usually the end of it, with my mom calling out a quick "Tobi, baby, leave Setsu alone" and me tottering off in the other direction to find something else to occupy my short attention span.   
  
But one day Mom wasn't there, and with Grandma in the other room watching something much too boring for my tiny mind, Setsu's tail hanging down from the window sill seemed so much more reachable than ever before.    
  
Three good shoves with my chubby hands and the kitchen chair was exactly where I needed it and within seconds I was eye level with smooth gray fur. I reached out to pet Setsu right as I lost my balance atop the kitchen chair, stubby fingers closing around a patch of fur as I fell backwards, pulling a screaming spitting cat down with me.   
  
Setsu never came near me again and I'm almost certain he warned every other cat in the world to avoid me also. Years later and I still have scratch scars on my hand and a strong belief that cats are so fluffy because they're full of hatred and anger.   
  
And then there's Kenma. He has every characteristic of a house cat; that calculated clever look in his eyes, his independent temperament, even his ability to fall asleep practically anywhere, but as far as my track record with cats goes I think he might actually like me.   
  
Other than the sugar incident I've only spoken to him once. Hinata had asked me over to watch a movie and I ended up sat between him and Kenma on the sofa while Natsu took the recliner. For such tiny people the Hinata siblings sure knew how to take up a significant amount of space, Natsu somehow spread sideways across her chair and her brother lying upside down with both arms out to the side. How he read the subtitles from that position I have no idea.   
  
Kenma started out sitting stiffly, his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on his hands, but about halfway through the movie I could see his head starting to nod as he dozed and somehow, much to my surprise, his head ended up in my lap as he curled up and slept soundly as if it was the most natural thing.   
  
No one noticed until the credits started to roll, Hinata standing up to stretch and smiling down at his friend, making a "shh" motion to tell me not to wake him. I was stuck there for two hours, long enough to watch another of Hinata's cheesy action movies, Kenma's warm breathe softly purring against my leg until I thought that maybe this whole scene was something I could really get used to.  
  
I had gone home that night with an odd domestic feeling in my chest. I've always had a domestic sort of relationship with Suga but this felt different somehow. It felt like I was actually a part of a whole instead of just being cared for by another person. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.   
  
I felt like I had two families and I hoped that maybe I'd be able to join them together someday. Maybe the amount of love I feel around the people I care about most could pull me out of the dark hole I'd stuffed myself into years ago.   
  
***  
  
To add to the laundry list of things Suga's parents have done to upset him, they scheduled their dinner on pizza night.   
  
"You don't have to go!" He practically cries, pacing his room nervously as I sit on the edge of his immaculately made bed. He always gets stressed out when he thinks I'm upset and the last thing he needs right now is added stress.   
  
"Suga,"  
  
"You and Daichi can do pizza night without me!" He's not facing me but I can hear the strain in his voice and picture the look on his face. He's regressing back into that scared boy I knew for one night so many years ago and I'm not sure if my heart can handle that a second time.   
  
"Suga,"  
  
"Its fine. I'll be fine. I can do it myself," he whispers, wringing his hands together in front of him. Is he trying to reassure me or are his words meant for his own ears?  
  
"SUGA!"  
  
He turns, finally startled out of his breakdown, brown eyes wide with tears balanced precariously on his lashes, ready to fall at a moment's notice. "Calm down. It's going to be fine," I tell him.   
  
"But you love pizza night," he starts to mumble again, pulling his sweater sleeves over his hands and dabbing at his eyes. It tears my heart out.   
  
I stand, striding quickly over to Suga and grabbing his face in my palms, looking down to meet his watery doe eyes. "Would you shut the fuck up for half a second," I say gently, or at least as gently as I can while telling his to shut his mouth, and it seems to work as Suga closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, nodding as I let go of his face and step back.   
  
"I'm sorry-"  
  
"I said shut up," I interrupt. I haven't even gotten to my speech yet and he's already apologizing. Unbelievable. I'm trying to have a best friend moment here and he's ruining it. "Listen, I _want_ to go. I told you I'd be there with you and I meant it. You couldn't stop me even of you wanted to, and I know you don't want to because you're scared shitless right now," I pause, reaching out to wipe away an escaping tear from his cheek. "It's going to be fine. You're strong and you're not alone. We can handle this. Besides," I add, "pizza night wouldn't be pizza night without you."  
  
Suga stands on his tiptoes to throw his arms around my neck, pressing his face against my shoulder. No words are spoken because none are needed, years of trust and friendship filling in the gaps his anxiety left torn open.   
  
When his breath finally evens out I take a step back, buffing him gently on the shoulder and earning a shaky smile. "Thanks," he says, wiping at his face again. "I'll be out in a minute and then we can go."  
  
I nod, turning to leave the room and closing the door softly behind me. I've never been good with words but I'm proud that I was able to calm Suga down at least a little bit. Our relationship has always felt very one sided but for once I feel like _I'm_ the one taking care of _him_.  
  
When I walk back into the living room I find Daichi on the sofa, flipping through the cable channels, looking at the TV but not seeing anything on the screen. I can tell just by looking at his face that he's worried beyond belief, his mind focused elsewhere. He starts when I drop onto the sofa next to him.   
  
"Kageyama! How is he?" He asks almost frantically, turning to face me and abandoning the remote on the coffee table. In the short time that they've been dating I've grown pretty fond of Daichi. If not for our own ability to get along then for his complete devotion to Suga.   
  
"He's fine. Or he _will_ be fine," I shrug, pulling my legs up in front of me and wrapping my arms around my knees.   
  
Daichi breathes out a deep sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Thanks. For taking care of him." He sounds so small and resigned, like he's carrying the weight from both of their shoulders.   
  
"He hasn't told you, has he?" I ask, turning my head to look at him. "About his parents?"  
  
"No. But that's okay. I know he's known you and Oikawa for years longer than he's known me so it wouldn't make sense for me to be upset over you guys knowing when I don't. And I'm not going to push him about it. I can see how much it hurts him so all I want to do is be there for him," he stops, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his lap. "I just wish I could go with him today."  
  
"You're really great for him you know? He's always so busy taking care of everyone else that he forgets to take care of himself, but now he has you," I tell him, my brief eloquence apparently not yet expended.   
  
"I love him."  
  
I should probably be surprised. It's not every day that your best friend's boyfriend confesses his feelings while you're having a mini heart to heart in said best friend's living room. But I'm not. Anyone who has spent ten minutes around Daichi and Suga can see the way they look at each other. The way that Daichi's eyes linger on Suga's face after he turns away and the way Suga's hand trails absentmindedly down Daichi's arm or shoulder when they're sitting closely. Every part of them screams love, pure and unadulterated.   
  
The sound of Suga's bedroom door opening sounds from the hallway and Daichi perks up, worry clearing from his face instantly as to not stress him out anymore. I reach out and tap him on the shoulder, catching his attention before Suga walks in.   
  
"You should tell him later," I whisper, and he gives me a small smile. "Do something special. He'll really like it."  
  
Suga walks in, his face clear of any signs that he'd been crying. Daichi jumps up and wraps him in a hug, catching him off guard but earning a thankful smile. I don't listen to their conversation very closely but I do hear Suga insisting that Daichi not worry about him.   
  
We leave shortly after, climbing into Daichi's Mini Cooper and heading for the restaurant, and as I stare about the window I wonder how heavily Suga's selflessness weighs on him.   
  
***   
  
The thing about loving someone is that you always see them in a totally different way than they see themselves and vice versa. It reminds me of art. You might see a painting and think it's nothing special but someone else is going to come along and think that the sun shines out of that painting's ass.   
  
That's how I feel about Suga. As I see him tapping nervously against the steering wheel, eyes darting to the radio clock every few seconds, I know that he looked at his reflection this afternoon and saw nothing but a frightened child while I look at him now and see nothing but strength.   
  
The therapist my parents sent me to years ago once told me that no one would truly love me until I learned to love myself, which is bullshit. That woman was full of awful unhealthy teachings. But the one good thing I ever learned from those god awful sessions was to make a list of things I loved about myself when I was feeling really down. That pulled me out of a lot of tough nights, but right now I'm not the one who needs helping.   
  
I've never met a person who deserves as much love as Suga or anyone who awards themselves with so little, so I start to compile a list for him in my head.   
  
I love his smile, and the way it lights up an entire room. I love how infectious his laugh is, no matter my mood. I love his selflessness even though it causes him so much strife.   
  
"We're here," he mutters, pulling me out of my thoughts. He puts the car in park and shuts off the engine, the absence of the humming engine leaving an empty gap of silence.   
  
"Ready?" I ask, reaching over to give his shoulder a quick squeeze.   
  
He lets out a long breath, steeling himself. "Yeah. Let's go."  
  
The walk up to the restaurant is too short, the doors appearing before us almost immediately. The hostess welcomes us and we're whisked off to our reserved table, everything a blur of movement quicker than I can comprehend.   
  
The two chairs across from us are empty and menacing like the storm clouds that hang around threatening rain but don't deliver on their promises.   
  
"I wish they'd hurry so we can just get this over with already," Suga sighs, watching as condensation rolls slowly down the side of his water glass, too closely resembling tears.   
  
I start to reply but the metaphorical clouds break and the threatened rain starts to fall as two unfamiliar people take their seats across from us. If I didn't know any better I never would've guessed that they were Suga's parents, his soft features nowhere to be found on either of their faces. The only indication of familial relation being the same silver color of his mother's hair and the light brown of his father’s eyes, but her hair is absent of starlight and his eyes hold no warmth.   
  
"Koushi. It's nice to see you," his mother greets, nodding her head slightly and giving me a less than friendly smile. I don't like the way her top lip curls over her teeth like a wolf.   
  
"Mom, Dad," Suga nods, not returning the sentiment. "This is my friend, Kageyama Tobio. Kageyama these are my parents, Hayato and Miyu." He's not frozen or stuttering like I expected. Instead he holds his chin high, eyes hard and voice steady. I quickly add his strength in the face of fear to my mental list.   
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Sugawara," his father corrects, speaking for the first time. His voice matches the cold depth of his eyes. I bite my tongue as Suga flinches and shoots me an apologetic look. I'm not angry at the comment, I expected this kind of thing, but I'm upset that Suga is the one who's hurt by it.    
  
"Yes sir," I nod politely, doing my best to make this as smooth as possible for Suga's sake.   
  
"So, Koushi, what have you been up to?" Mrs. Sugawara asks, tucking a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her voice drips with false sweetness, the kind that makes you sick to your stomach, her eyes wandering across the drink menu instead of focusing on her son's face.   
  
"Working, mostly. I'm earning my teaching credentials so I student teach at an elementary school," he answers, trying to meet his mother's eyes over the top of her menu but I doubt she's even listening. I can see an inherent need to please her hiding behind his eyes, the same urge that all children have no matter their circumstances. He's like a kicked puppy trying to atone for anger it doesn't understand.   
  
"That's nice, dear." He winces at the last word and I clench my fist under the table. What the fuck does this woman want if she's not here to actually reconnect with her son? What is her angle?  
  
"You went to college?" Mr. Sugawara says, more of a statement than a question. I can see Suga digging his fingers into his knee but his face shows nothing.   
  
"Yeah. I did. The social worker I stayed with worked it all out for me. She was really helpful." There's a fondness in his eyes when he mentions the social worker that acted as his guardian and I know he wants to say more about her but he holds it back, the look in his eyes disappearing at the stern look on his father's face.   
  
The waitress comes to take drink orders, Mrs. Sugawara ordering a dry martini, and Suga is awarded a moment to breathe. His composer drops for a brief moment as his parents are distracted by the waitress and I reach over to nudge his shoulder.   
  
"You okay?" I mouth, and he nods, shooting me a wavering smile that I know is fake, but I let it slide.   
  
The conversation carries on much the same, shallow questions and skirting around the elephant in the room until the tension dissipates enough to trick Suga into a feeling of false security. I can still feel it though, not daring to let my guard down.  
  
Three martinis into dinner and the mood starts to shift.   
  
"So what about you?" Suga's mother slurs, pointing at me with a piece of speared tortellini on the end of her fork.    
  
"Me?" I ask, long since abandoning my plate, the venomous honey of Mrs. Sugawara's voice ruining my appetite.   
  
"Yeah, you. Kage-whatever. What's your story? How do you know my son?" Suga looks appalled, her sudden rudeness obviously not sitting well with him. He opens his mouth to say something but I grab his knee under the table to stop him. The last thing I want is this turning into a fight over me.   
  
"Suga and I met in college. We were roommates and we've been friends ever since," I answer, keeping my voice as level as possible despite my blood boiling in my veins. Not once have these people asked Suga how he is or if he's happy. All they've done is fish for information on his living situation and ask about his life with his foster mother.   
  
It’s painfully clear that they don't care about their son's wellbeing, but I can tell that Suga wants to believe that they do so I play along.   
  
"Roommates, huh? And what kind of," she grimaces, lifting her glass back to her lips and spilling a bit onto her shirtfront " _relations_ did you have?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I want to know if you're fucking my son." She leans across the table, emphasizing every word, and I can smell the vodka on her breath matching her sickening attitude.   
  
"Mom!" Suga shouts, eyes darting between his parents but his father doesn't seem inclined to stop his wife. He's probably been wondering the same thing.   
  
"It's alright Suga," I tell him, straightening in my chair. I didn't want to do this, I really didn't, but I can't stay quiet any longer.  
  
"First of all, Mrs. Sugawara, don't call him _my son_ again as if you have any involvement in his life. Listening to you sit here and pretend like you give two shits about _your son_ makes me sick. He spent the last ten years getting away from you and he's better for it. Now I can see why," I pause, looking over at Suga who I expect to be angry with me but instead he gives me a look of gratitude, tears filling the corners of his eyes.   
  
"How dare you speak to my wife that way-"  
  
"I'm not finished," I interrupt, holding my hand up to silence Suga's father and I swear if looks could kill I'd be cold in the ground right now. "Second, who do you think you are that you can just walk back into Suga's life whenever it pleases you as ask who he's fucking as if it's any of your business?"  
  
"It's not my business?" Her voice is so shrill I'm surprised her empty martini glass doesn't shatter. "You don't think it's my business to know what sort of _ungodly_ things are happening in his life?"  
  
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Suga shouts, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. The entire restaurant goes silent but he doesn't even notice. He's finally snapped and I have no idea what to expect.   
  
"Koushi sit down," Mr. Sugawara growls, his voice hushed, trying not to attract any more attention.   
  
"No. I don't think I will," his voice is level and all traces of tears are gone from his eyes. Suga's anger is calm, like a gathering thunderstorm, and I think that's scarier than if he were to scream and yell.   
  
"I came here to try and patch things up with you, both of you. I thought that maybe now that we're adults and I'm grown up and on my own we could come to some sort of understanding and maybe be a _family_ again. But now I see how naive I still am. I don't know what made me think you'd actually _care_ about me now, or why I thought you'd come to apologize for everything you put me through. I've been bruised and broken for years and I thought that fixing things with you would make it better but now I see. I don't need you. Either of you. I already have everything I need and you have no place in it."  
  
Saying that Mr. and Mrs. Sugawara look stunned would be an understatement. They don't have a chance to reply before Suga tosses some bills on the table and turns to leave, a muffled "thanks for dinner" thrown over his shoulder.   
  
He grabs my arm and pulls me out of the restaurant, still stunned myself. As we pull out of the parking lot I turn to Suga, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.   
  
"You alright?" I ask tentatively, barely a whisper over the hum of the engine as he presses his foot harder and harder against the gas pedal. He doesn't answer, instead he slows, pulling over to a shoulder on the road and parking. I expect him to cry. Crying would make _sense_ , but laughter bursts out instead.   
  
We sit there for a while and I watch as Suga's laughter fills the car, the evening sun filtering in through the window, highlighting his silver hair with gold. I watch him, pride swelling in my chest, and my list grows infinitely longer.   
  
***  
  
Déjà vu is a bitch. Plain and simple.   
  
Maybe it isn't the same for others, but for me the feeling of déjà vu makes me incredibly nervous. While most people would think "wow this feels really familiar, that's kind of funny" my brain automatically takes me back to the time that I'm being reminded of, and more often than not it's not a good memory, and I automatically shut down. It's like second hand embarrassment but over something that happened to _me_. I guess that's just firsthand embarrassment. Either way, my original statement stands; déjà vu is a bitch.   
  
I've known Hinata for weeks now, I've been to his apartment multiple times, knocked on his door more times than I can count, but today my brain decides to hit me with the memory of that first time we spoke in this hallway. Images of me blathering like an idiot and blushing like a virgin (the answer to that question isn't important right now) flood my mind and my fist drops from its position mid-knock.   
  
And I know I'm being ridiculous, I really do, but there's not much I can do about it. I guess the plastic CD case holding my new song gripped in my other hand doesn't help discern the scene in front of me from the one in my head.   
  
I consider turning around and retreating back home, a startled bird returning to its nest, but a new image occupies my mind. I remember the look on Hinata's face as he felt the vibrations of my music through his hands and how it felt like the compressed warmth of the sun was spreading through my chest.   
  
I want to feel that again. I want; no I _need_ that brightness to surround me again. That light that only he can produce.   
  
Gathering my courage I knock on Hinata's door and I hear a muffled "its open!" from inside. I steel my pounding heart as I push the door open; finding Natsu and Kenma sprawled on the carpet, Hinata nowhere in sight.   
  
"Hey!" Natsu calls, waving from the floor. Her smile is sweet and wide, just like her brother's.   
  
"What're you guys doing?" I ask, setting my CD down on the end table by the door and taking the recliner seat.   
  
"We were playing Mario Kart but Kenma beat me on Rainbow Road so I pushed him off the couch. Then I felt bad so I joined him and now I think he's asleep," she explains, sitting up and leaning back on her arms. "What're you doing?"  
  
"I came to see your brother. Where is he anyway?" I intentionally leave out the part about wanting to see his dumb smile that makes my heart flutter because even though Natsu is small and sweet I'm pretty sure she'd kick my ass in less than a second if I showed that kind of weakness.   
  
"In his room I think. Painting probably," she shrugs, poking at Kenma with her pink socked toe and earning a soft groan. I have no idea how one person can nap so much but then again there are a lot of things I don't understand about Kenma.   
  
I kind of want to go talk to Hinata, and I'm curious to see what he's working on, but I decide against it. He's never shown me any of his paintings before and I'm sure the last thing he wants is someone bursting into his workspace. Years of hiding sheet music in inconspicuous boxes of shelves where no one would find them (only to have them taken down and rifled through despite my best efforts) have taught me to respect the need to keep your art private.   
  
Natsu gets up to grab a movie, leaving Kenma where he lays softly snoring.   
  
"Popcorn?" She calls from the kitchen, head buried in the fridge where she wouldn't hear me if I replied anyway, so I join her.   
  
"No but I'll take a soda," I say, leaning against the doorway. She closes the fridge door and hands me a can, a Capri sun hanging from her mouth as she grips the foil corner with her teeth, a bowl of leftover pasta in her other hand.   
  
"Don't you ever go to school?" I ask, popping the top of the soda can and eyeing the untied uniform ribbon hanging from her neck. "You're like twelve."  
  
"I'm fourteen!" She snaps, popping the bowl of pasta into the microwave and setting the time. "And today was a half day so I came to hang out."  
  
"Don't you have friends your own age? Why do you hang around a bunch of guys that are so much older than you?" I take a swig of my soda and Natsu narrows her eyes at me.   
  
"Shouyou needs me to take care of him or he'd live in filth, and I've known Kenma since I was little so he's my friend as much as he is my brother's. And you, _you_ I haven't quite figured out yet," she shrugs, stirring her pasta and putting it back in the microwave.   
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I just don't know much about you is all. I didn't say I don't like you," she mumbles. "Why so many questions?"  
  
"That was only two questions," I say, watching the plate turn under the thick yellow light of the microwave. Haven't figured me out? What is there to figure out? I think I'm a pretty straightforward guy.   
  
"Three questions, actually. My turn." Natsu grabs the bowl of pasta and takes a bite, chewing carefully as she thinks, and I'm ashamed to say I'm scared.   
  
She asks her question right as I take another drink of cola. "Are you dating my brother?" I choke, carbonation spilling into my nose, burning as I cough and sputter. Natsu continues to eat her pasta, not moving from her place against the sink, a look of devilish amusement on her lips that I swear I've seen on Hinata's face before.   
  
"What!? No!"  
  
"Do you want to?"  
  
"No!" I shout again, setting my can on the counter and grabbing a napkin to wipe my face and the floor. "Fuck, Natsu, you can't just ask something like that out of nowhere!"  
  
She eyes me suspiciously over the fork in her hand as I toss the sticky napkin in the garbage. "We're just friends," I mutter, my burning cheeks definitely not helping my case. Right now my only wish is to melt into a puddle on the floor to be wiped up just like my spilled soda and tossed in the trash where I belong.   
  
"Okay, then let me ask you this-"  
  
"I'd rather you not."  
  
"Shush," she scolds, pointing at me with her fork tines, a look of pure evil glinting from her deep within her brown eyes. "Do you like boys?"  
  
It catches me off guard, and I'm not sure if it's the bluntness or the general look of interest she gives me, but I answer honestly. "I-I've never really had a preference," I stutter, looking down at my shoes.   
  
"I see," she nods, turning on her heel and heading back towards the living room.   
  
"Hey, wait!" I call, following her as she curls up cross legged on the sofa. "What- what about Hinata?"  
  
"What about him?" She smirks around a bite of pasta.   
  
"What is his...preference?" My face is burning, I _know_ it, and the wicked look in Natsu's eyes is not helping at all.   
  
"That's not my question to answer," she points out, and I can't argue because I know she's right, which is infuriating. "I think I'm starting to figure you out, Kageyama," she adds, winking and grabbing the DVD remote, pressing play on whatever movie she's picked out.   
  
Well that's just fan-fucking-tastic. A fourteen year old girl apparently understands more about me than I do and I've completely humiliated myself in front of another tiny ginger. There should be an award for this.   
  
***  
  
Kenma rolls over somewhere in the middle of the movie, sitting up and rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child.   
  
"What're we watching?" He asks, yawning and leaning back against the sofa.   
  
"Batman," Natsu replies, eyes trained on the screen as she hugs a pillow in her lap.   
  
"The good one?"  
  
"That is Jim Carrey in green spandex on the screen. Does it look like the good one?" I scoff, earning a pillow to the face from Natsu and I have to admit the girl has a good arm.   
  
"This movie is a masterpiece," she declares, carding her hands absentmindedly through Kenma's hair.   
  
"It has the cheesiest dialogue I've ever heard."  
  
"Your point?" She finally breaks eye contact with the TV screen to shoot me a glare that could probably kill a man. "Cheesy movies are an art form in of themselves."  
  
"There's no arguing with you," I sigh in defeat. I swear the Hinata siblings will be the death of me someday. Probably sooner rather than later.   
  
Speaking of which, the sound of a closing door signals Hinata's arrival in the living room, apparently surprised in his amount of visitors as his brown eyes go wide, quickly replaced by a smile that makes my heart skip a beat.   
  
My eyes must linger on him a bit too long because I can feel Natsu's eyes on me and I turn to meet her smug smirk. She winks at me before turning to her brother, signing something faster than I can follow.   
  
Where does she get these ideas anyway? Why would I want to date Hinata? I mean, not that I'd be totally opposed to it. I really do enjoy hanging out- wait what the fuck. What am I saying? Of course I don't want to date my friend, that wouldn't be cool. I'm pretty sure that's 100% against friend code. I can't believe I've let a fourteen year old girl screw with my mind.   
  
"Kageyama!" Natsu's voice makes me jump and I hit my elbow on the arm of the recliner.   
  
"Ow, shit!" I shout, grabbing my elbow as Hinata giggles behind his fist and I flip him off. "What?" I ask as I throw the pillow she smacked me in the face with earlier back at her.   
  
"Do you want to get something to eat with us?" Hinata asks, his hands moving much slower than when he spoke to his sister. I've been working with Asahi for weeks and I've improved a lot but it's still hard for me to understand when he signs too quickly.   
  
"Sure," I shrug, and my stomach gives a small growl of agreement. I guess being hounded by Natsu made me forget that I was hungry.   
  
"Can we go somewhere with french fries?" Kenma asks, stuffing his 3DS into the pocket of his jacket.   
  
"No I want ramen! It's cold outside," Natsu whines as she ties a scarf around her neck and then does the same to Hinata. I'm reminded again of how similar she is to Suga in the way she mother's her brother, except Suga isn't near as violent or snarky.   
  
"Any preferences?" Hinata asks me, struggling to sign as Natsu shoves his gloves into his hands.   
  
I shake my head as I tell him I need to grab my coat from my apartment, struggling momentarily over the sign for "apartment" and substituting it for "room".   
  
After Natsu shoves gloves and scarves on everyone we make our way out onto the street, the sun close to setting and the wind starting to pick up as the temperature drops.   
  
There's a certain silence that settles over the world in that hour before nightfall when the sky is four different stages of color and everything is calm. As the day creatures start to settle down and the night creatures come to life, waiting patiently for the horizon to swallow the sun. It's like the whole world stops at once to take a deep breath in, momentarily curing the ails of all the little people it holds in its arms.   
  
I feel as if our whole group somehow understands this because after a few minutes Natsu quits her snarky banter, grabbing onto Kenma's arm instead, and Hinata quits his hyper bouncing and falls into silent step beside me.   
  
It's nice, walking quietly with these people that I've grown so fond of. These friends that accepted me into their daily lives so quickly and easily.   
  
The silence lasts for maybe three minutes tops.   
  
"Kuroo!" Kenma shouts, pointing across the street towards the small community park as two guys run at full speed towards the fence on the far side. The one with ridiculous black hair vaults over the top of the fence with almost feline grace while the one with even more ridiculous white hair struggles as his leg gets caught beneath him but seems to come out unscathed.  
  
"Shouyou its Kuroo and Bokuto!" Natsu smiles, mirroring Kenma and pointing towards the pair.   
  
"You know those guys?" I ask, squinting across the street as the figures get closer. Natsu and Kenma seem ecstatic but when I look down at Hinata's face his eyebrows are knit together with worry.   
  
I tap his shoulder and he drops the look immediately, meeting my eyes with a smile that I know is fake and I wonder for a second when I learned the difference. "Are you okay?" I ask him, his eyes on my hands yet I see a flicker of uncertainty flash across his brown irises.   
  
He watches as Natsu grabs Kenma's hand, dragging him across the street, and then nods, looking back up at me. "I went to school with them a long time ago," he answers and I'm not sure why I don't believe him.   
  
"Lil bro!" The shorter of the two waves from the other side of the street and I wonder briefly what he's trying to accomplish by shouting when Hinata obviously can't hear him, but I figure he's just the type of guy who likes to shout.   
  
Hinata grabs my hand and pulls me along behind him as he joins the group and I try really hard not to think about how warm his gloved palm is against my icy fingers.   
  
"Hey!" He beams when we reach the park gate and he releases my hand to jump up and throw his arms around the white-haired guy's shoulders. He laughs, hugging Hinata tightly before setting him back on the ground.   
  
"What're you doing here?" Hinata asks, signing slowly like he does when talking to me so this guy must not be too good at sign language either.   
  
"Ah man, bro, you're not gonna believe this," he starts, gold eyes flaring with excitement. "So Kuroo and I were hanging out in the shopping district right-"  
  
"Hey Hinata who's your friend?" The black haired guy, Kuroo apparently, calls out, looking away from his conversation with Kenma and Natsu.   
  
"You have to get his attention, stupid," Natsu chides, smacking Kuroo's shoulder. "He won't know you're talking to him unless he's looking at you."  
  
"What would I do without you sweet pea," he laughs, ruffling Natsu's hair and earning a rather vicious glare. Behind the ferocity in her gaze there's a soft fondness that tells me she cares for Kuroo very much, which only makes me wonder who these guys are even more.   
  
Kuroo walks over and leans against the white-haired guy (who must be Bokuto)'s shoulder. "Hey Hinata who's your friend?" He repeats, shooting me a smirk that I'm not quite fond of.   
  
"I'm Kageyama. We're neighbors," I answer for him. _And friends_ I add silently.   
  
"Neighbors huh? You spend a lot of time with our little bro?" Bokuto barks, narrowing his eyes and jabbing his finger at my chest.   
  
I'm about ready to tell him to move his finger if he wants to keep it and exactly where he can shove it but Hinata grabs the arm of my jacket and Kuroo steps in. "Chill, Bo. He's probably an all right guy. There's one way to check though."  
  
"You're right bro. Only one way," Bokuto agrees, removing his hand and smirking over at Kuroo. I have no clue what they're talking about but they're definitely starting to piss me off.   
  
"Hey Kenma!" Kuroo calls and Kenma turns, cocking his head to the side. "You like this guy?"  
  
Kenma looks at me and shrugs. "He sucks at Mario Kart."  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"Yes you do!" Natsu interjects and I stick my tongue out at her.   
  
Hinata lets out a deep breath beside me that sounds oddly like a sigh of relief.   
  
"Well that's that!" Kuroo claps me on the back and smiles. "Kenma likes you so that must mean you're a good guy."  
  
"Thanks? I guess?"   
  
"Ah shit, bro do you see that?" Bokuto asks, slapping his palm flat against Kuroo's chest and pointing down the street.   
  
"Is that what I think it is?" He beams, his smile stretching wide across his thin lips. And then I see them, red and blue lights reflecting on the sides of buildings in the darkening street.   
  
"C'mon guys we gotta go," Kuroo announces, jogging over to Kenma and grabbing his hand, pulling Natsu along behind them.   
  
Hinata starts to ask Bokuto what's going on but he just grabs his arm and shakes his head. "No time lil bro, we gotta go. We'll explain in a minute," he winks, leading us quickly behind Kuroo and the others.   
  
We stop in an alleyway a few blocks away from the park, the five of us kneeling behind a stack of empty boxes before I think to ask what the fuck is going on.   
  
"What the fuck is going on?" I whisper. Very original, Tobio. You have _such_ a way with words.   
  
"Those cops are kind of looking for us," Kuroo explains, smiling proudly.   
  
"What? Why?" Natsu's voice is half concern and half shrill anger but, quite understandably, lacking surprise.   
  
"We were hanging out near the shopping district," Bokuto starts, continuing the story he began telling earlier. "And these cops pulled up and said we were being 'loud and disruptive'." I'm pretty sure his air quotes are unwarranted.   
  
"You probably were," I mutter and Bokuto shoves my shoulder playfully. Or at least he meant it playfully but I lose my balance from my squatting position and fall backwards on my ass. I feel Hinata's hand on my arm and he looks at me with concern but I brush him off, ignoring the strange fluttering in my stomach.   
  
"So these guys were being total dicks right?" Kuroo continues. "So Bo knocks off the bigger guy's hat and we grab it and book it the hell out of there," his eyes are wide with excitement that can only come with a ridiculous sense of adventure.   
  
"Where's the hat?" Kenma asks, somehow still looking bored. I swear the world could end right now and Kenma wouldn't even be bothered to blink an eye.   
  
"We're getting there," Bokuto answers, his hand gestures becoming more erratic the more excited he gets. "We stopped by the river and we were taking selfies with the hat, it made for a _great_ snapchat story by the way, and then they found us again!"  
  
"So I threw the hat in the river to distract them and we took off again," Kuroo interjects, proudly pointing at his chest with his thumb and high-fiving Bokuto.   
  
"Is that why you were hopping that park fence?" Natsu chastises, clicking her tongue in disapproval which only lasts for a few seconds before a smile breaks out on her face and she playfully smacks them both on the head. "You two are complete idiots."  
  
I can feel Hinata practically buzzing with excitement next to me and I look down to see his eyes wide with reverence. You've got to be kidding.   
  
He starts to ask questions so fast I can barely understand what he's saying, but from what I gather it's something like "What if they catch you? Will you go to jail? Which way did they go?"  
  
"Whoa calm down there, lil bro," Bokuto laughs. "They'll never take us alive."  
  
"You're only in trouble if you get caught," Kuroo agrees, buffing Hinata softly on the cheek with his fist.   
  
"You guys are so cool!" Hinata signs, bouncing up and down and smiling like an idiot. I make a mental note to never let him be alone with Kuroo and Bokuto. Nothing good will ever come from that.   
  
"I'm hungry," Kenma chimes, rubbing at his eyes with a gloved fist and I see a sort of softness gloss over Kuroo's face.   
  
"Yeah I'm starved too. All that running made me hungry," Bokuto agrees, standing up and stretching his legs. "Bro lets go get some burgers."  
  
Everyone agrees, mirroring Bokuto and standing to stretch while I'm still sitting on the concrete, dumbfounded that no one seems at all surprised by their story. Do they just do ridiculous shit like this all the time? Who am I kidding, of course they do.   
  
After ducking behind trash cans and cutting through alleys we finally make it to a burger joint and the five of us sit down with trays of greasy fries and milkshakes.   
  
The upset look on Hinata's face when Kuroo and Bokuto first showed up still worries me, but at some point during the laughter and bubbling conversation I accept that my circle of acquaintances somehow now includes Dumb and Dumber, and if Hinata trusts them then I guess they can't be too bad.   
  
At this rate I'll probably end up in jail by the end of the month. 


	5. Stories and Snowflakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's a god that could save me  
> I'd ask that he open the skies and do it now  
> But it's just a chemical,  
> I'm not a snake  
> I'm just falling apart again  
> Look at me, I'm sobbing like a child. 
> 
> -Ludo

I've only ever put real effort into one thing in my life; my music. Everything else was pushed to the back burner. In school I skated by with a small amount of natural skill and an affinity for bullshitting assignments; barely enough to earn me grades that were just passable so that my music portfolio could carry me on a college application.   
  
Nothing ever interested me like music. I was uninspired, wandering in a world devoid of meaning until that day my dad bought me my first guitar, and from then on it was all I cared about. Math was too dull, writing was too difficult (I was anything but eloquent), and science definitely wasn't for me. I couldn't put any effort into those things because they were unimportant. I had no passion to drive me toward them.   
  
The only time I felt alive was when I had a melody breathing fresh air into my lungs in time to the drum beat of my heart. Whether the notes were sweet or sour they were _there_ and they were constant and I never had to fear being alone while they were with me.   
  
That being said, I've been working extremely hard at my sign language lessons. I've done pretty well with the vocabulary, though I still get tripped up on grammar sometimes, but with Asahi being such a patient teacher I've improved greatly. Honestly this guy is too calm for his own good; sometimes it's a bit scary. I can understand why he does well working with children.   
  
"So how's it been going with your friend?" Asahi asks as we're walking out of the rec center towards the parking lot. We had been working on my reading speed today, with him signing simple sentences at different speeds for me to get quicker with my comprehension. Hopefully I'll become good enough that Hinata won't have to sign slowly at me like I'm an idiot anymore (I _am_  an idiot but that's beside the point).  
  
"I- what?" I stutter, the mention of Hinata catching me off guard. Asahi watches me fumble over my fingers twice a week so I'm sure he doesn't need any more reason to think I'm a blubbering moron, but he should probably avoid speaking to me at all times since I'm prone to sentences like this that contain more "um" and "huh?" than actual words.   
  
"Tooru said you were doing this for a friend," he chuckles. "They must be pretty special to you. I've never had a student that tried as hard as you do." His smile is warm and genuine, which only makes my cheeks flare up hotter than they normally would.   
  
"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm doing it for my neighbor."  
  
"Seems like a lot of trouble for someone who's just your neighbor," he muses, swiping his fingers across his cheek to push a fallen strand of hair behind his ear. Being the end of the day some of his hair has started to fall from its bun, framing his face nicely with the thick dark strands.   
  
"We hang out sometimes," I mumble, kicking at some particularly interesting pieces of asphalt by my shoes.   
  
"Ah, I see," he chimes. I don't look up because I can just _hear_ that knowing smile that everyone seems to have on when asking me about Hinata in his voice. I understand Suga and Natsu doing it but there's no way Asahi is part of the secret "We Apparently Know More About Kageyama's Life Than He Does" club, right?  
  
My thoughts are cut off by a telltale buzzing in my pocket. I fish out my phone and find Hinata's name flashing at me on the screen. Speak of the devil. Not that Hinata is a devil; he's more like a bunny, or an overly excited puppy.   
  
**From: Hinata  
Hey...can you stop by whenever you get the chance? I have something I want to show you  
**  
No exclamation points. No smiley faces. This must be serious.   
  
"Everything okay?" Asahi prods gently, reading the concern that is probably plastered across my face.   
  
"Yeah! It's fine. That was him actually," I confess, finally looking up. "He was just asking if I wanted to come over."  
  
"Well that sounds like fun," he smiles and nods at me, a wicked glint in his dark eyes despite his soft smile. "I won't keep you any longer then. See you on Thursday, Kageyama!" He waves, turning to make his way toward his car. I don't bother returning the gesture; my mind clouded with thoughts other than common manners.   
  
As I make my way down the familiar streets that lead me home I wonder about the way that everyone has seemed to look at me differently these last few months. Friends, and even strangers, have started to smile at me more, slyly or otherwise, and I wonder if it's because I've been doing something differently. Maybe I've been happier, more open to others, and those around me are starting to reflect that. Maybe I'm not as closed of a book as I've always assumed.   
  
***  
  
The walk home is short, maybe because I hurry, or maybe I'm just too preoccupied to notice the sidewalk moving along below my feet. Hinata's text runs through my mind over and over, and I'm sure that I'm just being paranoid, but his words seemed a bit...apprehensive?   
  
I've never known him to be nervous about anything. Hinata always dives headfirst into life; he throws caution to the wind and says whatever pops into his head. He's an idiot, but I love that about him, which only makes me worry even more about whatever is bothering him.   
  
I stop by my apartment before heading over to his, throwing off my coat and changing into a clean shirt that doesn't smell like old cement buildings and guitar string wax. I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair a bit, just to freshen up.   
  
I shoot him a quick text as I stand outside his door.   
**  
To: Hinata  
Knock knock**  
  
I can hear him inside, scurrying around like a mouse before opening the door. He doesn't meet my gaze, brown eyes downcast, and the seed of worry that's planted in my chest starts to sprout.   
  
"Hey," he says out loud, still not meeting my eyes. I'm thankful because I don't want him to see the way I perk up at his voice, that elusive sound I only hear once in a while, and every time I'm caught off guard by just how beautiful it is.  
  
I know it's selfish of me but sometimes I wish Hinata could speak more often just so I can hear him every day. What if he could sing? What if we could team up and he could sing along to my songs with that angelic voice of his, matching his tone to my melodies and turning it into something new. Art that we could create _together_.  
  
But as Hinata takes his seat on the couch, mouth closed and lips pulled tight with apprehension, I'm reminded again that my imaginary version of Hinata isn't real. Hinata his own person and there's so much about him I still don't know. So many levels I have yet to explore but am more than willing to descend. But what I do know is sitting right in front of me, solid, true, and _beautiful_.  
  
"I listened to the CD you left," he signs, finally looking up to meet my eyes. "I hope that's all right," he adds.   
  
"That's why I brought it over," I shrug, my hands moving much smoother over the words than they had weeks ago. I'm a bit disappointed that I wasn't here while he listened to it, but I push the thought to the back of my mind. I can mope about it later.    
  
"What was it about?" His eyes are alert now, studying my face with an intense curiosity that fits there so much better than worry.   
  
I hesitate, wondering how open I can be about it without getting _too_ personal. Not that I don't want to open up, but I'm not sure if Hinata would be comfortable seeing the sappy poetic side of me that comes out when I talk about my music.   
  
But then I think: fuck it.   
  
"The stars," I start, checking his face for any sign that I should stop. Finding nothing but genuine interest, I continue; "the way they looked on the first night we hung out. As we walked home they looked like music notes sitting on the power lines, and it felt like they were placed there specifically. Almost as if the universe wanted me to remember that moment." That last bit might have gone a little too far.   
  
He doesn't answer, just looks at me with a sort of twinkling awe that might annoy me on someone else but from him it turns my heart into a hummingbird, flitting around inside my chest.   
  
"I have something to show you," he tells me; hopping up from his spot and heading down the hallway, not bothering to await a response. I realize that I haven't sat down since I walked in, but I'm way too anxious to stay still so I remain standing awkwardly next to the recliner, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.   
  
The apartment is strange empty. While my own feels fine when it's dark and quiet, I always expect Hinata's to be bright and lively, Natsu and Kenma taking up their usual spaces on the sofa. Silence doesn't belong here.   
  
Hinata returns a few minutes later, a large canvas tucked under one arm and I'm surprised he can carry it so easily considering it's about half his height.    
  
He heaves it onto an easel in the corner of the room and takes a step back, eyeing me sheepishly.   
  
"I started this after I heard that first song," he tells me, a slight smile playing at his lips despite how scared he looks. "I guess we inspire each other."  
  
It's me. There in the center of the canvas is me, tall, dark, and brooding, holding my guitar out to one side and a music sheet in the other. Behind me there's swirls of color in skillful swipes, a mix of varying brush strokes and breathtaking chiaroscuro.   
  
And I know it must be gorgeous, it must indescribably beautiful, but to me it's a muddled mess of yellows, browns, and blues. A swampy bastardization of Hinata's masterpiece. His hard work, his _vision_ , reduced to nothing but a crude palette and rough shapes.   
  
"I...I can't," I whisper, shaking head, and I'm not sure if he could read my lips. I don't know if I want him to.   
  
His face falls, draining of color. I guess he read them after all. Shit shit shit. He's frowning; the expression so out of place on his delicate features that he almost looks like a different person.   
  
"I can't," I repeat, firmer, refusing to acknowledge the moisture stinging at the corner of my eyes.   
  
".....why?" He croaks, all of the brightness gone from his voice. The noise is foreign, so far from the melodic sound I've grown to love.   
  
I want to answer. I want to _explain_ , but my heart is pounding and my hands are shaking, my brain racing and bringing up memories of almost forgotten feelings I haven't felt for years. I've spent so long slowly stitching myself together just for it all to crash down with a sunshine smile and the swipe of a paintbrush.   
  
I shake my head again and take a step back toward the wall, wanting the feeling of something solid against my back, and trip over my feet. Hinata steps forward, a hand stretched out to grab my own, and he gets so close to wrapping my fingers in his own but I pull back at the last second and my heart clenches as hurt flashes across his eyes.   
  
I'm so fucking stupid. Why can't I open my mouth and tell him? It’s so simple. I'm willing my jaw to unglue and the words to come spilling out to fix everything I've broken in the last few seconds, but nothing happens. My lips won't move and my brain won't deliberate. And now I've hurt him. I'm pushing away someone I've worked so hard to get close to. I'm such a fucking piece of shit.   
  
"I have to go."  
  
I turn and leave before I have to see the look on his face, not sure if I can handle that stinging look of distress in his eyes again. That recoil in his expression that usually envelops me in warmth.   
  
I slide down to the floor as soon as I shut my apartment door behind me, the cold wood pressing against the back of my neck.   
  
I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.   
  
I refuse to cry, so instead I scream. I cross my arms over my head, pressing my face to my knees and I scream until my voice is hoarse, and my throat torn to pieces. I know that Hinata won't hear and I can't decide if that makes me feel better or worse.   
  
This is all my fault. I got my hopes up too high, got too comfortable with the idea of this happy life surrounded by others who actually like me, the idea so much more beautiful than the reality. I ignored the truth in front of me, that everything was doomed from the start because I'm an idiot who can't handle friends and definitely doesn't _deserve_ them.   
  
The truth is that some things just don't mix. There are colors that don't blend, notes that don't harmonize, and some people that just aren't meant to be.   
  
***  
  
Three weeks. I don't talk to Hinata for three weeks.   
  
But that isn't it; I don't play my guitar, I don't go out, I only eat when Suga comes over to make me, and I only go to work because I know I have to. I call Asahi and tell him I won't be able to come to our sessions for a while and I'm not sure if I'll return at all.   
  
The days drag on in an endless cycle of groggy dozing, blankly staring at the peeling paint on my bedroom wall, and picking up my phone to type out an apology message to Hinata only to delete it over and over again. Day in and day out the same pathetic hopelessness.   
  
Every time I hear his door open across the hall my heart leaps into my throat, beating so hard that I choke on the metallic taste of my own self resentment.   
  
At one point during the first week I thought I heard a faint knock at my door, my mind racing with thoughts that maybe, _just maybe_ , it was him and he didn't hate me and everything would be fine. But then came the idea that I hadn't heard anything at all and if I went to open the door just to find the hallway empty that the disappointment would crush me so much harder than I already had been. Of course the bitter thoughts won out, only to be replaced by stinging regrets.   
  
Suga drops by on my third consecutive Saturday of blowing him off for pizza night. He doesn't bother knocking, just walks in, not bothering to say hello (he knows I won't respond), and pulls me out of bed.   
  
"Suga-"  
  
"Up," he says, not giving me a chance to protest. Authority sounds foreign in his voice but I can't say it doesn't fit well.   
  
"Don't wanna," I mumble, grabbing at the mattress and searching for my comforter to pull down over my face.   
  
"Well you're going to," he sighs, pulling the covers just out of my reach. "You're going to get up, you're going to shower, and you're coming with me. Oikawa has Takeru today so the three of us are taking him to the park. Fresh air will be good for you."  
  
I adore Oikawa's nephew Takeru (he's the only child that has ever liked _me_ ), and I'd love to see him, but none of that seems to matter to me right now.   
  
"Kageyama," Suga nudges me when I don't respond, the softness I'm used to wiggling its way back into his voice. "Please get up."  
  
Something gives me the strength to sit. Willpower? No. Guilt? Probably.   
  
"Do I have to go?" I whine, turning to look Suga in the eye. I must look pitiful to him, but if he thinks so he doesn't say.   
  
"Yes. And if you don't hurry up and get in the shower I'm going to drag you in there myself."  
  
"Alright, alright geez," I groan, standing to grab some clean clothes and heading towards the bathroom.   
  
"Make sure you blow dry your hair it's cold outside!" Suga calls after me. No matter how hard he tries he can't help but be a mom.   
  
I let the shower water ease the tension from my shoulders, leaning my head against the cool tile and letting the anxiousness seep out through my skin until I almost believe it's all gone.   
  
When I finally emerge Suga shoves me back into the bathroom, blow drying my hair himself and then forcing a knit hat over my head. I'm wrapped up in three layers of winter clothes before we head down the stairs. I feel his eyes on my face as we pass by Hinata's closed door but I refuse to meet his gaze, trying hard to keep up my artificially calm and collected demeanor without him seeing how my breath hitches.   
  
We meet Oikawa and Takeru by the playground in the park shortly after, the cold weather making for a rather small group of parents and children around us.   
  
"Uncle Tobio!!" Takeru yells when he catches sight of Suga and I, flinging himself off of the swing Oikawa was pushing him on and running towards me. He wraps his little arms around my legs and buries his face into the hem of my coat.   
  
"Hey Take!" I laugh, and it isn't forced. "How've you been?"  
  
"I turned this many!" He tells me, holding up seven little gloved fingers, a proud smile plastered across his face.  
  
"Wow that's a lot," I chuckle, pulling up his scarf around his windblown red cheeks.   
  
"I've told you, Tobio isn't your uncle. _I'm_ your uncle," Oikawa chides, meeting us where Takeru stopped our progression to the playground. Takeru sticks his tongue out at his real uncle and starts to tug at my sleeves so that I'll lift him onto my shoulders. I oblige.   
  
"Woooow you're so tall, Uncle Tobio! Uncle Koushi look at me!" He calls, reaching towards the sky as if he's up high enough to grab a star in his little fist.   
  
"Be careful Take. Don't squirm too much, we don't want Uncle Tobio to drop you," Suga smiles, watching the boy look around the park in wonder as he clutches his arms underneath my chin.   
  
"Uncle Tobio won't drop me he's the strongest uncle in the whole world!"  
  
"Takeruuuuu," Oikawa whines, pouting and folding his arms over his chest. "You're so mean."  
  
"Aww poor Oikawa, so reliant on the approval of a child," I tease, Takeru's energy lifting my own mood and making me feel loads better than I have in days.   
  
Suga slaps me lightly on the arm and shooting me his classic "behave" look.   
  
"What if we go get ice cream? Will you call me Uncle then?"  
  
"Hmmm," Takeru answers, thinking it over and obviously toying with his uncle. "Can I get a chocolate sundae?"  
  
"Your mom said not to give you too much sugar. How about a scoop of chocolate?"  
  
"Uncle Tooooooooru,"  
  
"Okay okay! You can have whatever you want!" Outsmarted by a seven year old; good job Asskawa.   
  
Takeru starts to wriggle around until I set him back down on the grass. He grabs Oikawa's hand and starts to pull him towards the park gate, "c'mon Uncle Tooru, let's go!"  
  
Suga lets out the giggle he's been holding in as they start to walk away from us, a serene fondness in his eyes, and I start to wonder if that's how he looks at me when _my_ head is turned. As we follow them down the path Suga turns to smile at me, and I realize that no, that's not how he looks at me when my head is turned, he looks at me that way right in front of my eyes yet I've never noticed.   
  
"You don't look good, Kageyama," he says gently, eyeing the dark circles under my eyes and my pallid cheeks with concern.   
  
"Gee thanks," I scoff. It's true though, I know I look like shit.   
  
"I just mean...well I haven't seen you like this in a while. Not since back in college, ya know? You're so shaky and I'm just really worried about you." His voice is soft but his words carry the sting of repressed memories.    
  
"M'fine," I mumble, watching the sidewalk move along under my feet. I don't want to think. Thinking hurts too much. And I definitely don't want to remember a time when it hurt even more.   
  
"You're not fine. You haven't been since you stopped talking to Hinata." I don't look at him, I'm too ashamed. He knows what happened, I told him everything (after a fair amount of badgering on his part), and he said he understood but it didn't change anything. I'm still a child, scared and alone and weak, but I'm not sure I can change that.   
  
"He probably hates me."  
  
"You thought that about your parents too," he says, the bluntness of the statement catching me off guard, but I don't move my head. "Do you ever think about it? Everything that happened back then, I mean? It doesn't help to try and forget. I should know."  
  
I still don't answer, swallowing hard to beat down all of the feelings that are crawling their way up my throat with claws sharpened by their years of dormancy.   
  
"What would you do after fighting with them?" He pushes, a plan obviously up his sleeve yet I have no idea what he's trying to accomplish.   
  
"Avoid them usually," I shrug.   
  
"Well that never solved anything."  
  
"What the fuck do you want from me?" I don't shout, I don't even raise my voice above a whisper. I'm defeated, lost. I don't know how to fix things or if I would even be brave enough if I _did_ have an idea.   
  
Oikawa and Takeru are far ahead of us on the sidewalk, holding hands as they jump over cracks in the cement, bubbly laughter carrying back to us on the crisp air. The silence between us swallows up the sound and stamps it out like the dying embers of a campfire.   
  
"Kageyama," Suga sighs, no louder than a whisper, and I finally turn to meet his warm brown eyes. "Did I ever tell you the story of the bird that fell in love with the sun?"  
  
"Is this a kid’s story or something?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. I usually don't go for that poetic metaphorical bullshit that teaches you about sharing and the power of friendship.   
  
"Kind of. More of a fable I guess," he explains, "but it's one of my favorites and I think you'll like it."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"As I was saying, there was a bird that fell in love with the sun. He'd wake up every morning with the orange light of sunrise filtering through the leaves of the tree where he built his nest, and every night he would watch it sink below the horizon and count the hours until it would return to him.   
  
He did this for years until one day he decided he couldn't wait any longer; he wanted to join the sun in the sky and live forever inside of the beauty of its rays.   
  
So one morning, he flew up and up, straight up until he could feel the golden glow getting warmer and warmer, becoming everything he had hoped for. But as he got closer the warmth started to change until it became a searing heat.   
  
The little bird kept on flying, not wanting to give up his love for the sun, until his feathers started to char and he began to fall back towards the earth he had left, but before he could fall too far the sun reached down to catch him in its fiery arms.   
  
Because, while the bird had fallen for the sun's light, the sun had fallen in love with the bird's song. The sun hugged the bird to its blazing chest, and for one brief moment they were together.   
  
Though, as with most things, the little bird was not built for the heat of the sun, and as his body turned to ashes they scattered across the night sky, shining bright with the warmth the sun had leant them and forming the stars.   
  
And now they're there, still in the sky, occupying the same space but never quite touching. Spending their eternity beaming down on us, showing the people that there is beauty in pain, and stardust in our veins, but sometimes we have to burn before we can shine."  
  
There's a faraway look in Suga's eyes and a quirk at the corner of his lips as he finishes the story. He watches the last of the leaves on the trees in front of us spin as they fall to the ground before turning to look at me. I loved the story, more than I'd care to admit, but I try to keep a relaxed look about my face.   
  
"What's the moral?" I ask, a croaking in my throat betraying my solidity.   
  
"The point is that sometimes we know that something might not be good for us, or you don't see an easy or happy ending in sight, but you go for it anyway," he shrugs, trying to play off his words as just plain old storytelling, but I know that he's getting at something deeper.   
  
Suga opens the door to the ice cream parlor, the other two already seated inside where I can see a hot fudge covered Takeru and a flustered Oikawa trying to keep drips from falling on the boy's jacket.   
  
"I have to go," I mutter, backing away from the open door. "I have to fix this." I'm speaking mostly to myself but Suga smiles and nods, reaching out to pat my shoulder.   
  
"I thought so."  
  
I turn, not bothering to say goodbye, and start to sprint back the way we came, following the paths that I know will carry me home.   
  
I am the bird, and I don't know if I'm flying towards the sun or if I already have and now my body is burned and broken, but I don't think I care.   
  
There's nothing but adrenaline in my veins and hope in my heart and I know for once that I won't go down without a fight.   
  
***  
  
There's nothing like a lungful of winter air to fill you with false bravery, enough to move your feet back and forth fast enough that you don't have a chance to pause and ponder the situation.   
  
I pass a pretty, dark haired woman at the bottom of the stairwell but I don't stop, taking the steps three at a time until I'm panting out front of Hinata's door. It's cracked, and before I can lose my momentum I push it open, stepping into the brightly lit living room.   
  
Natsu is sitting alone on the sofa, looking up at me in surprise when I burst in, her expression changing from excitement to an exasperated eye roll in seconds.   
  
"It's about time you get your act together Romeo, but you're gonna have to wait a while longer," she tells me, blunt as always. She stands and starts to push me back the way I came.   
  
"Hey! Natsu, wait! I need to talk to your brother," I argue, turning around and grabbing her shoulders to stop her.   
  
"Yes I know. You're here to make a grand apology. Honestly it took you long enough, he's been shaken up for weeks and he wouldn't let me come punch you. Anyway, we're expecting company and it'll be best of you aren't here when she arrives," she explains, apparently unfazed by entire situation.   
  
"Company?"  
  
"Yes. Now please go, she'll be here any minute. I'll text you later to let you know the coast is clear okay?" She starts to shove me again but I don't budge.   
  
"I don't understand," I mutter, scanning the room for any signs of Hinata but finding none.   
  
Natsu sighs, stepping back and placing her hand on one hip, completely done with my shit. She’s cute when she's sassy, in that huffy little sister way.   
  
"Listen, Kageyama. There are a lot of things you don't know about Shouyou, and it's not my place to tell them or your place to seek them out. So I'm asking you please, just go home and wait it out a little bit," her brown eyes are pleading.   
  
I nod, realizing that the only reason she would send me away is if it really is for Hinata's well being. I've never witnessed a love as fierce as Natsu's love for her brother.   
  
"Text me later," I tell her, turning on my heel to leave but not entirely sure where I'm heading.   
  
The bathroom door shuts behind me, and I instinctively turn toward the sound, finding Hinata staring back at me, his eyes a mix of apprehension, relief, and excitement. The look doesn't last though, his eyes darting to the front door behind me and his expression immediately turning to mortification.   
  
"I'm here," a woman's voice calls out behind me. "Hello Natsu, how have you been?"  
  
Hinata locks eyes with me again before I turn around to where Natsu is talking with the dark haired woman I saw in the stairwell.   
  
She's gorgeous; in a trim suit jacket and pencil skirt with glasses sitting perfectly in front of her clear eyes that I assume are crystal blue. She looks like the type of person who has every detail of herself put together and will promptly kick your ass if you ruin it. But at the same time she seems incredibly sweet.   
  
"Hello," she greets me, turning away from Natsu and extending a delicate hand in my direction. "I don't think we've met. My name is Shimizu Kiyoko."  
  
"K-Kageyama Tobio," I stutter, shaking her hand. She shoots me a curt smile and pushes a piece of her long hair behind her ear. I notice a silver band with the distinct glint of a diamond on her left hand.   
  
"Nice to meet you, Kageyama. Are you a friend of Shouyou's?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. Yes," Natsu rolls her eyes at me from behind Shimizu and nods her head at the door. "Actually I was just leaving. It was nice to meet you too."   
  
I turn, facing Hinata again who still looks terrified. I sign quickly at him "see you later", and leave as quickly as I can without being rude.   
  
Natsu follows me to close the door, sticking her head out of the crack at the last minute and whispering "I'll text you later, okay?"  
  
She closes the door before I respond, not that I was going to actually say anything, the strange encounter too fresh for my brain to be functioning properly.   
  
I don't go home, instead I wander down the stairwell and back onto the street outside where the day is starting to wind down and the sun is preparing to sink below the horizon.   
  
What just happened? Who is Shimizu and why was Hinata so afraid for me to meet her? What did Natsu mean that there's a lot I don't know about her brother?  
  
Why does it feel like no matter how much progress I feel like I'm making, socially, emotionally, _mentally_ , I'm somehow still stuck on square one?  
  
***  
  
Trust has never come easy for me. I'm a skeptic at heart, assuming the worst in people at first glance, always on my toes even after learning more about them.   
  
Except with Hinata. For some reason I trusted him immediately, handing him that first CD and laying myself down on a figurative operating table, handing him the tool to carve out my heart. Luckily for me he didn't (choosing instead to affect it in a way I haven't quite figured out yet), and from then on he had my full and undying trust.   
  
And I thought I had his. He trusted me with his phone number, his friends, his _art_ ; but he didn't trust me with whatever part of his life involves Shimizu Kiyoko.   
  
And why would he? We've only been friends for a few months and I've obviously chalked our relationship up to be something bigger than it actually is.   
  
But then again maybe I'm just overreacting, acting like the pissbaby I always am when I'm stressed or confused.   
  
I want answers. I want to know everything about this boy who obviously means so much to me. _"There are a lot of things you don't know about Shouyou."_ But I want to know them. I _need_ to know them.   
  
It's selfish, wanting so much from him when there are so many of my own demons I'm keeping locked away.   
  
I end up back at the park, empty now that the sky is dark and the wind is biting, creating a radius of silence around me where I can't even hear the grinding of car tires on gravel just a few feet away. The only sound is my boots crunching in the grass and my heart beating loudly in my ears.   
  
I take a seat on the swings, the cold of the rubber seat seeping through the fabric of my jeans but I don't care. I barely feel it. The range of emotion I've gone through in the last hour has numbed me.   
  
My phone starts to ring, interrupting my sphere of silence and I only answer it to stop the obnoxious metallic noise.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Kageyama! Where are you? I came to your apartment but you aren't here and no one answered at Hinata's so I figure no one is home or he's there by himself." Suga's voice is mildly panicked but I'm too tired to find it endearing.   
  
"I'm in the park. Swinging," I tell him, leaning my head against the frozen chain. The twisted metal digs uncomfortably against my temple through the fabric of my hat but the cold feels great on my pounding head.   
  
"Oh. Is Hinata with you?" I hear the distinct sound of a door closing and the rattle of keys as he locks my apartment behind him.   
  
"No."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I have no fucking clue," I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the bridge of my nose with my free hand.   
  
"Kageyama," he chides, unimpressed with my explanation.   
  
"Nothing really. I showed up and Natsu said it was a bad time and then a woman showed up and I left. He looked... _afraid_. He definitely didn't want me to meet her," I tell him, thinking back to the mortified look in Hinata's usually bright eyes.   
  
"Afraid? Was she his mom?" Suga asks, the crunch of his footsteps sounding through the phone speaker.   
  
"Not unless she had him at ten years old." I picture her again, composed in her immaculate suit and sleek hair. "She might be his boss or something. She looked really professional. But he's never mentioned a job and I don't see why he'd be so shaken up about me meeting his boss. Also she knew Natsu so that doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Hmm. Did she introduce herself?"  
  
"Her name was Shimizu."  
  
The line disconnects and I look up in surprise, pulling the phone away from my ear. Suga stands in front of the swing set with his phone in his hand hanging limply at his side and his mouth forming a surprised 'o'.   
  
"Suga-"  
  
"Kiyoko?" He asks, his eyes lighting up in a way that I've only seen when he talks about one person. "Was her first name Kiyoko?"  
  
"Yeah. It was. Do you know her?" I ask, realizing that confusion has been my default emotion practically all day.   
  
He plops down onto the swing next to me and twists until we're facing each other.   
  
"Know her? I _lived_ with her. Kageyama, she was the social worker that adopted me." He smiles at me for a moment before a sudden realization causes his features to fall. "Why was she at Hinata's apartment?"  
  
"Suga," I start, not sure if I actual want my next question answered. "What department does Shimizu work for?"  
  
He doesn't answer for a moment, looking down at his shoes and kicking at the frosted grass. He shoots me an apologetic look, his lips trying to lift into a smile but not finding the strength. "Child protective services."  
  
"Oh my god," I whisper, dropping my head into my hands. "Natsu was right. I don't know _anything_."  
  
The first snowflakes of winter have started to fall, floating down towards the grass, and I watch as they land of the fabric of my gloves and melt into little flecks of water. Neither of us speaks, just watch how the snowflakes glow as they pass the park lamps like frozen fireflies.   
  
We stay that way until a small pile of snow has built up around the sides of my boots, forming little mounds of white over my laces.   
  
"Come on, it's time to head home. You've had a long day," Suga prods, gently pulling me to my feet. He guides me by my gloved hand out of the park and onto the sidewalk leading home, and as we walk I watch the snow fall, building up around me like so many unanswered questions, and I wonder for a moment if the sun will be enough to melt them all away. 


	6. A Taste of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! (But it's over 10,000 words so hopefully it was worth it.) This chapter is about 4% plot and 98% ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Enjoy!
> 
> And tell me, did you sail across the sun?  
> Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded  
> And that heaven is overrated?
> 
> And tell me, did you fall for a shooting star,  
> One without a permanent scar?  
> And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?  
> -Train

Life is a give and take. It took me a long time to realize that. There's a cosmic balance to the world, pulling the strings of fate and pushing the tides that bring people together, forming the lives we live with unfathomable precision.   
  
The universe gave me Hinata. It gave me Suga, Natsu, Kenma and all of the others. It gave me the one thing I thought I'd never deserve; friends. But with that gift comes a payment.  
  
I need to be wiser, kinder, I need to accept more and deny less. I need to open up and embrace this life I never knew I needed but is now the only thing I want.   
  
I need to reconnect and resurrect the things I've broken with my own naivety and clenched fists. I need to piece my gifts back together, but first I have to fix myself.   
  
My salvation comes in the form of a text message.   
  
**From: Lil Sis  
Meet me at the cafe in ten minutes okay?  
**  
The old me would frown at the name Natsu entered for herself in my phone and not bother to respond, but I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm going to try my hardest to keep the things that are important to me and this sassy teenage girl is definitely one of them, not matter how much I loathe admitting it.   
  
**To: Lil Sis  
See you in a bit**  
  
I'm already out, leaning against the brick wall of some indeterminate building in a long line of similar bleak structures along the street. I slept awfully last night, tossing and turning for hours after my conversation with Suga at the playground, the lightly falling snow outside my window doing little to calm my nerves. I left early this morning, bundling up against the chill of mid December and heading out to clear my head with a lungful of icy air underneath the vast expanse of steel gray sky.   
  
When I turn the corner next to the cafe around fifteen minutes later (I didn't realize how far I'd wandered or how long it would take to find my way back) I see Natsu through the window, already seated. Her tiny hands are curled around a mug of hot cocoa, warming them as she gently blows the steam, and I can feel a warmth spreading through my chest that I'd usually beat down and hide away, but now I let it fill me. How did she manage to burrow herself so far into my heart without my noticing? She looks up as I near the door, waving through the window with bright eyes and a sweet smile.   
  
Hinata is like a sunflower; bright and delicately beautiful, pulling you in with the promise of warmth and never disappointing. But Natsu is like a flame; just as bright, just as beautiful, but with a sharp edge that can burn you to ashes at any moment, yet you're drawn like a moth and you'd rather catch fire than miss her flickering light.   
  
I order my coffee from an annoyed looking blond employee and sit down, neither of us speaking for a moment, and I don't even lift my head to meet her eyes.   
  
"Listen-,"  
  
"I'm really-,"  
  
My head whips up as we both snap our mouths shut, expecting the other to continue.   
  
"Go ahead," I mumble, squeezing my fist nervously around the handle of my mug, my urge to close myself off and hide growing with every second. No, I'm not doing this again. I'm going to be braver from now on. No more tucking tail to run.   
  
"No, you start," she says, steady and so much more than I ever could have been at her age. So much more than I am _now_. I nod and unclench my hand, taking a deep steadying breath.    
  
"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have burst in like that and put you guys in an awkward situation with Shimizu. I should've left when you told me to," I stop, looking up at Natsu, her eyes trained on the worn table top. "And none it would've happened if I hadn't run away in the first place. I was so stupid and I almost ruined everything."  
  
She looks up, a calculating look in her eyes that would usually scare me. "What happened anyway? Shouyou never really told me the details."  
  
"He showed me a painting. A painting of _me_."  
  
"And you ran?" She asks, making me flinch.   
  
"Essentially. There was more to it though," I tell her, fighting down the part of me that wants to curl up inside of myself and never speak again. "I...I'm colorblind. His painting looked all muddy and I felt awful. He was so _proud_. I don't know why I couldn't just tell him, but I panicked. I guess I just didn't want to let him down. But I ended up hurting him so much more."  
  
Natsu sips at her cocoa, thinking carefully about her words before saying them, and the suspense tears me up inside. "He's not hurt. Well he was at first, _really_ hurt. Especially after you didn't answer your door."   
  
"I thought I imagined that," I confess, dropping my head onto the table with a loud bang.   
  
"You're an idiot, Kageyama." Her words aren't malicious, but they're completely true. I'm the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.   
  
"He's worried about you mostly," she continues. "He was worried that you were punishing yourself for something, but he had no idea what it was or how to help."  
  
"He's not wrong," I mutter, pushing away my now cold coffee mug and running my free hand down my face. "He shouldn't worry about me."  
  
"Well he does," Natsu snaps, setting down her empty mug and crossing her arms over her chest. "My brother cares about you a lot. And I know you care about him too."  
  
I nod, seeing no use in arguing, and she continues. "There are just things he isn't really ready to share. That's why he looked so scared when Shimizu showed up."  
  
"I know who she is. She worked with a friend of mine a long time ago. He doesn't have to explain anything to me if he doesn't want to," I tell her, sitting up a bit straighter and trying to convey a serious demeanor.   
  
"That's a conversation you can have with Shouyou," she nods, waving off the statement. "Listen, he has his secrets but some of them are both of ours. I figure you deserve a little bit of truth after everything."  
  
"Natsu, you don't have to-"  
  
"Shush," she interrupts, holding up one finger with chipped blue nail polish. "Just listen, okay?"  
  
I nod, an uneasy feeling creeping its way up my chest. She takes a deep breath before continuing, pulling at one of her ginger pigtails absentmindedly.   
  
"I don't remember a lot, I was only a baby when everything happened, but I know enough. Shouyou and I lived with our dad when we were younger, but he was less than a good person. There were a lot of unsafe things going on in our house and our dad wasn’t very good at taking care of us, and eventually the authorities were brought in," she frowns, the memories probably burning in her throat the same way mine always do. "Kiyoko was the worker who took us away, and ever since then our Uncle Ittetsu has taken care of us. She comes to check on us every once in a while, especially since Shouyou moved to the city.  
  
Kenma lived next door so he and Shouyou have been friends ever since. And then along came Kuroo and Bokuto and we had a happy little family," she pauses, shooting me a coy smile despite the ghosts that are swimming in her eyes. "And now we have you too."  
  
"I'm sorry," I say, choking out the only thing I can think while I try to navigate the whirlwind of emotions in my head.   
  
"Don't be," she retorts, sounding so much steadier than me even though she's the one with an actual excuse to be upset. "We aren't children looking for sympathy. We're just people learning to grow past our struggles and better ourselves."  
  
"Did you know that you're incredible?" I blurt out, not thinking before speaking, my cheeks flaring up red hot.   
  
"I try," she giggles, running her fingers through her hair again. "Just be patient with my brother, okay?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Good. I'm going to hold you to that." She stands, grabbing her scarf and coat, reapplying all of her layers to survive the freezing air outside. "I have school tomorrow so I have to head back home."  
  
I walk her out and down the snowy sidewalk until we near the train station that will take her back to her Uncle's house outside of town.    
  
"See ya next weekend, Kageyama," she waves, turning to head inside the station but I catch her arm before she gets too far and wrap her in a hug. It's strange for me, I usually hate hugs except from Suga when he forces me into them (I'll never admit it out loud until I'm cold in the ground), but tiny Natsu fits so well against my chest. She's warm and her hair smells like strawberries, and I try to convey everything I can't articulate into words to her through the beating of my heart on her ear.   
  
"Thank you," I whisper, letting her go and forcing a shaky smile.   
  
"Don't mention it. Just no more running away okay?" She waves again and turns on her heel up the frozen path.   
  
No more running away. I can do that. I _have_ to do that.   
  
The snow that falls at my feet now is so much different than that of last night. Last night's snowflakes were questions, unspoken words that ate me alive until there was nothing left but a raw beating heart exposed to everything the world wanted to throw my way. But now the falling white flakes are opportunities. They're wishes, dreams of better days. Pieces of ice that are so much like falling stars, promising growth and a hope for the future.   
  
***  
  
With one humongous fuck up cleared from my mental laundry list I move on to the next objective; Hinata. As I find myself stationed in front of his door for the millionth time there's a sour taste in my mouth, every memory, every emotion I've felt in this exact spot melting over my tongue and pumping clumsily through my veins.   
  
I stand there for a few minutes, unsure if Hinata's "if the door is unlocked come in" rule still applies to me and taking the time to steady my lungs and calm my fluttering heart.  
  
I'm here to fix things. I'm here to stitch back together the pieces of a broken dream using the strength of my newfound bravery and _I am not going to fuck this up_.   
  
I push the door open before I lose my determination.  
  
Hinata is sat behind the easel underneath the window on the far wall of the apartment, a paintbrush poised in one hand and a look of concentration on his face. His fingers curve so delicately around the brush handle, his fingertips stained with color, splotches here and there on his pale skin.   
  
He's like a living painting, artwork in human form, and I'd like to personally thank the artist responsible.   
  
He looks up as I approach, eyes widening with what I tell myself is surprise because anything else would probably cripple me here and now. He stands, setting his brush down on the easel and steps a bit closer, but not too close, looking up at me through those long eyelashes just a few shades darker than his hair.   
  
"Hey," he breathes, feather light and almost indistinguishable from the soft sound of air passing between his slightly parted lips.   
  
"Hey," I return, looking down at my shoes and anywhere else that isn't his piercingly curious gaze with walls set up ever so slightly behind them. I card my hand through my hair, giving me some time to gather the words I want to say.   
  
"I was an ass," I start, using my hands instead of my mouth because I don't want to hear the quiver in my own voice. "I reacted really poorly. I should've just explained but I got too nervous, too scared. I made a mess of things and I'm-,"  
  
Hinata cuts me off, placing his warm palm over my fumbling fingers. He looks up, meeting my eyes and smiles. It isn't a full smile, not the radiant sunbeam that can melt the polar ice caps that I'm used to, but it's a smile all the same, and I'll take anything I can get right now.   
  
He lifts one paint stained finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet and leaving a line of color against the soft pink flesh. As he lowers his hand he asks "How about we just start over?"  
  
Have you ever been so relieved that your breath catches and you have to mentally _will_ your knees not to give out beneath you? That's me, my bottom lip pulled between my teeth and fists clenched so hard I can feel nails digging into my palm, trying not to let the prickling in the corners of my eyes to progress any farther as I nod. Yes. _Yes_. A million times yes.   
  
There are no stories told, no questions answered, but for now that's enough. For now that's perfect.   
  
Hinata smiles and cocks his head to the side, hair bouncing up and down with a new spring to it and I swear the room around me brightens a few shades. That swipe of paint is still sitting on his lips and without thinking I reach out so wipe it away, pressing my hand against his jaw and sliding my thumb across the skin.   
  
The warmth feels amazingly good juxtaposed with my fingers, still chilled from the winter air outside. I linger longer than I mean to, engrossed in the pillowy softness I never imagined could exist. When I look away I find Hinata looking up at me through hooded eyes, a sort of acceptance I'm his gaze that could easily be seen as an invitation.   
  
Or maybe it _is_ an invitation. I move my thumb back to where my other fingers rest against his jaw line, and I wonder if maybe paint doesn't taste too awful. Before I can stop myself I start to lean forward, inches away from that sweet caress of angel's wings when I hear two familiar voices shouting in the hallway.  
  
I pull back just as the front door slams open and Dumb and Dumber make their grand entrance, louder and more obnoxious than ever before.   
  
"Hey little bro!" Bokuto shouts, vaulting over the arm of the sofa and landing on the cushions, his legs bent over the other side. Hinata and I spring apart, heat radiating across my chest and all the way to the tips of my ears.   
  
"Yo it's Kags!" Kuroo calls, taking a seat much more casually on the recliner and tossing a pillow at the back of Bokuto's head.   
  
"H-hey guys," I stutter, not bothering to correct the awful nickname since I'm currently the color of a tomato and not in a position to argue with a spiky haired moron.   
  
"Hey!" Hinata chirps, no sign of distress anywhere on his face. That little bastard.    
  
"Woah Kags, you look a little sunburned. You okay bro?" Kuroo asks, a wicked glint in his eyes that makes me suspect he's much more clever than I pegged him to be.   
  
"I saw on TV that you can get a sunburn from skiing. Did you go skiing?" Bokuto perks up, his gold eyes bright and curious.   
  
"I'm fine," I growl, "it's just a little warm in here."   
  
"Do you want me to turn off the heater?" Hinata asks, looking half concerned and half like he's trying his hardest not to laugh at me. I shake my head, glaring at him in a way that conveys both my want to strangle him and my need to never _ever_ speak of what just happened again.   
  
"Hey lil bro we came to ask a question," Kuroo calls, and I have to point Hinata in his direction because he seems to still forget that Hinata _can't fucking hear_.  
  
"Thanks bro," he says before turning to Hinata. "Hey when does Natsu get out of school for winter break?"  
  
"I think the twentieth," Hinata answers. "Why?"  
  
"We're going on an adventure!" Bokuto shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and accidentally banging his knuckles on the side of the coffee table. "Ow!"  
  
"We wanna take a trip to Disneyland for Christmas. You, me, lil sis, Bo, and Kenma. You down?"  
  
Hinata's eyes light up and he starts to practically bounce up and down as he agrees. But just as quickly as he started he stops, looking at Kuroo and pointing at me.   
  
"Huh? Oh yeah Kags can come too. The more the merrier!" He smiles, winking at me in a way that would definitely piss me off if I wasn't distracted by Hinata's bouncing.   
  
"You wanna come?" He looks at me expectantly, and there's honestly no way I can turn him down.   
  
"Sure," I shrug, watching as he starts to skip around the room again.   
  
He settles on the end of the sofa where Bokuto is still holding his bruised fist and starts to sign in a whirlwind of excitement.   
  
I turn back to Kuroo who smirks at me, that same knowing look in his eyes that I'm getting extremely tired of seeing on everybody I talk to.   
  
"Hey is it alright if I invite a few people?" I ask, thinking that Suga would be ecstatic to have a chance to go on a trip with Daichi and even Oikawa shouldn't be left alone on Christmas.   
  
"Yeah bro! Invite the whole town!"  
  
"Cool," I nod, sitting down on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.   
  
I never thought I'd say it but an adventure with these two doesn't seem all that bad. I watch as Hinata and Bokuto talk excitedly about this ride and that attraction and how many treats they're going to eat, and I fall into an easy conversation with Kuroo. It feels so natural to be here, just sitting and talking with friends, and it's as if the last three weeks never happened.   
  
It's odd how Hinata only had to say a few words to stitch me back together then I thought my entire world was coming undone.   
  
***  
  
The term "walking on air" has never made much sense to me. Do people like the feeling of floating? Does it feel nice to have nothing solid beneath your shoes when you take a step? It sounds inconvenient if you ask me.   
  
Then again, in the last two weeks between making up with Hinata and Natsu being released for winter break, I think the idiom has really started to make sense.   
  
Nothing really changed, but to be honest that's what made it so special. Pizza nights happened as usual, the Hinata siblings still loved their cheesy movie sessions, and I even started meeting with Asahi again; but every encounter felt much more precious. I somehow managed to gain these things back and I never want to lose them again.   
  
When December 21st finally rolls around there's an electric buzz in the air that even makes me (Mr. Grumpy, according to Suga) excited. There's a warmth to the conversation despite the lightly falling snow as Suga, Oikawa, Hinata and I stand outside of Suga's apartment building with our luggage, waiting for Daichi to pick us up and drive to the train station to meet the others. It's early, and we're all freezing, but there's a bright smile on every face and a spring in every step.   
  
"Hey Kageyama," Suga chirps, pulling his thick scarf away from his mouth so he can speak. "Want to do anything special in the park tomorrow?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Your birthday! Did you forget?" He laughs, patting me on the shoulder.   
  
"Oh. Yeah I guess I did. I'd rather not do anything," I tell him, looking over to where Hinata is chatting to Oikawa brightly. They only met today but they seem to be getting along fine. I'm not sure how much I like that.  
  
"Aww come on. When are you going to spend your birthday in _Disneyland_ again?" Suga has always been more excited about this sort of thing than me so usually I let him bake a cake and decorate however he wants while I pretend to enjoy it, but the idea of being the center of attention in such a large group makes me uneasy.   
  
"You're the only one who even knows, Suga," I answer, stuffing my gloved hands deep in my coat pockets and kicking at the curb. "And don't go telling anyone!" I add quickly, a planning look already in his eyes.   
  
"Fine," he sighs, frowning at me. "You're no fun."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble. "Save it. Daichi's here."  
  
Daichi pulls up against the curb in front of us, parking and getting out to help everyone shove their luggage into the trunk of his Mini Cooper. After a lot of fighting with the trunk capacity (and a lot of mumbling that "hey maybe we should've used a different car"), Suga jumps in the passenger seat and Oikawa, Hinata and I squish into the back. I do my best to make sure that I'm not stuffed next to Oikawa so Hinata ends up in the middle seat.   
  
The train station isn't a very far drive but listening to Oikawa recount all of the times he went to Disneyland as a kid and how all of the princesses would swoon over him makes it feel so much longer. Hinata is warm even through both of our coat sleeves, bouncing up and down in his seat despite the close quarters. I look towards the front windshield to distract myself from fluffy orange spikes just to see Daichi reach over from the steering wheel and squeeze Suga's knee. Apparently the universe is determined to surround me by things that make me feel like a sappy loser.   
  
We meet Natsu, Kenma, and the idiot duo in front of the ticket terminal after searching for an overnight parking spot and wrestling the luggage back out of the trunk. There's about ten minutes of introductions; Kuroo, who's carrying both Natsu and Kenma's bags along with his own, seems to immediately get along with Daichi while Suga gravitates towards Natsu.   
  
"Everybody ready? I already picked up the tickets," Kuroo asks, waving an envelope in the hand that's clutching a pink duffel bag.   
  
There's a chorus of excited "yeah!" and Hinata starts to literally hop up and down, clutching my sleeve in his slender fingers. He doesn't let go as we all file through the terminal and climb into the train car as I try my best to ignore the lump that's seemed to form in my throat.   
  
Our group takes up two booths on the train, the more lively members switching seats and chatting loudly for the duration of the almost 3 hour trip from Miyagi to Tokyo as Suga keeps reminding us gently to use our inside voices and to stay seated for safety reasons. When Hinata isn't listening to outlandish retellings of Kuroo and Bokuto's various adventures with the law or watching over Kenma's shoulder as he does whatever the hell it is you do in Animal Crossing, he sits next to me and points at things out of the window that he finds interesting.   
  
"I like to ride the train in summer," he tells me, not breaking eye contact with the scenery as he signs. "There are always sunflowers along the tracks."  
  
"You like sunflowers?" I've never really appreciated flowers. They just seem like fancy plants to me.   
  
"I love them! They're my favorite flower." His eyes light up the way they always do when he talks about something that he enjoys. I want him to always look this way. "They're orange so they contrast perfectly with the blue summer sky. I love to paint them."  
  
Orange and blue contrast. I can't really picture it the same way he can but I suppose it makes sense. Just like the way his bright shining personality contrasts with my own gloomy brooding disposition, yet we get along perfectly. I guess that makes him the sunflower and me the summer sky.   
  
Three hours later (and six UFO sighting by Oikawa) we pull into the Tokyo train station closest to our hotel. The collective excitement level grows higher than I thought possible as we all drag our suitcases along the few blocks to the hotel. Hinata is practically vibrating by the time we enter the lobby and I start to wonder of its bad for his health.   
  
Kuroo and Daichi head to the front desks to get our reservations as the rest of us wait, Bokuto giving us his best rendition of Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah much to the dismay of the other guests. After two separate elevator rides we finally reach our rooms.   
  
"Alright, so we have three rooms with two beds each," Kuroo tells us, holding up three silver keys with little plastic cards attached. "Suga, Daichi and Alien Boy are in 231, Kenma, Bo and I will take 235, and that leaves the Ginger Kids and Kags in 233. Everyone good?"  
  
"As long as I don't hear any sexy time noises in the middle of the night," Oikawa jests, grabbing a key and turning toward the respective door. "This is a family friendly vacation."  
  
"Oikawa! Don't be vulgar," Suga chides, but his words are hollow since Daichi smacks him on the ass as they file into the room. I hope for everyone's sake that the walls are thicker than they look.   
  
Natsu grabs our key and opens our door, motioning for Hinata and I to follow. "Come on boys. You're wasting precious Disney time."  
  
"Yes ma'am!" Hinata chirps, sliding past her and throwing his bag onto the bed on the far side of the room. Natsu plops her pink duffel bag next to his and starts to rummage around inside it, pulling out sunscreen (it's winter?), water bottles, and various other things to bring into the park with us.   
  
"We'll sleep on this bed Kageyama. You can have the other one," she tells me, packing a smaller pink bag with her supplies.   
  
"Oh. Thanks," I mutter, tossing my bag onto the bed closer to the door. Through the walls I can hear Kuroo and Bokuto arguing about sleeping arrangements.  
  
"You can have that bed, Bo. Kenma and I will take this one."  
  
"But bro," Bokuto gasps. "I thought you loved me! We're best bros we should bunk together!"  
  
"I'd rather have my own bed," Kenma mumbles, his nose probably still stuck in his 3DS.   
  
"Aww Kenma, but what if you get cold?" Kuroo whines. Poor Kenma. He got the short end of the stick being stuck with those two.   
  
"Bro! We have to _bond_."  
  
Across the room Natsu closes her bag with a loud zip. "I have no idea why we take those guys in public," she giggles, rolling her eyes and covering her mouth with her hand.   
  
"I don't know why anyone lets them go outside at all," I laugh, smiling despite myself.   
  
Hinata throws open the doors on both sides of our room that connect to the other two, excitedly running between all three. Eventually everyone migrates to our room since it's in the center.   
  
"We should leave the doors open! Then it'll be like one big room!" Hinata suggests, hands moving so fast I can barely follow. Those speed lessons Asahi and I practiced with are really coming in handy.   
  
"It'll be like camping! Except without a tent!" Bokuto bellows, hopping around just like Hinata but making much more noise.   
  
"So then not like camping at all," Kenma points out, making Kuroo bark with laughter.   
  
"We should go camping sometime," Oikawa chimes, "I bet we'd see a real UFO on a camping trip."  
  
"Yeah!" Hinata shouts, nodding vigorously at Oikawa's suggestions, making him beam with pride. Great, now he has encouragement.   
  
"Hey I have an idea, not to be ridiculous or anything, but why don't we head to the fucking park?" I ask, earning a disapproving look from Suga who mouths "language" at me from across the room.   
  
"Yeah let's go we're wasting time," Natsu agrees, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. Everyone mimics her, grabbing onto the sleeve of the person closest to them and following us as some sort of weird human chain.   
  
As we step back onto the street and head towards the entrance to the park I start to wonder if this vacation will be fun or if I'm in for the most stressful endeavor of my life.   
  
***  
  
Stepping through the gates of the park and watching everyone's face light up is amazing. Even Kenma's calm feline eyes twinkle like stars as the giant pink castle rises up in the distance.   
  
"So what first?" Natsu asks, opening the map she grabbed at the turnstile and turning it around for us to look at.   
  
"Rides!" Bokuto yells, Hinata and Kuroo nodding vigorously in agreement.   
  
"I don't want to get on one of those giant metal death traps- does that say Space Mountain?!" Oikawa gasps, grabbing the map and inspecting it closer. "Oh my god Suga we have to ride this."  
  
"No. No shitty alien stuff Asskawa," I growl, taking the map and looking at it myself. "We should go to the one with the ghosts."  
  
"The Haunted Mansion? Or the Tower of Terror?" Suga asks, pointing both attractions out to me on the map.   
  
"Both."   
  
"Okay how's this," Daichi starts, taking authority over the disorganized group. "We'll hit Space Mountain first because Oikawa probably won't shut up until we do, then we'll go to the Haunted Mansion and stop for lunch to discuss the plan afterwards. Sound good?"  
  
Everyone nods, even me, impressed over how easily Daichi took command and finally got us to move away from the Main Street entryway. Suga stands to peck him on the cheek and thread their fingers together as the group starts to migrate.   
  
One quick ride on Space Mountain turns into three rides and only ends when Kuroo grabs Oikawa's jacket collar and drags him away before he can jump in line again (the cast member directing the lines thanking us for finally taking "alien boy" away).  
  
"I'll be back later!" He calls back to the man, waving as smoothly as he can while being pulled along. The poor worker rubs his palms against his eyes and mutters to himself. I hope for his sake that he's off the clock before Oikawa manages to show up here again.   
  
As we stand in line for the Haunted Mansion Hinata starts to point out other attractions to me on the map, chatting excitedly about where he wants to head next and what rides look the biggest and scariest. I try my best to seem happy and humor him but the crowds of strangers around us are making me anxious, setting me on edge even though I'm trying my best to be chipper.   
  
Bokuto jumps over the knee high fence bordering the line area, claiming that he'll return in a few minutes, which he does, accompanied by about thirty churros stacked in his arms. He hands one to everyone, leaving him still with a ridiculous amount.   
  
"Why did you get so many? There's no way you can eat all of those," I scoff, taking a bite of my own churro, the warmth filling my stomach and helping to calm my nerves.   
  
"Is that a challenge, bro?" His gold eyes light up like a flame, his smirk almost predatory.   
  
"2500 yen says you puke," I say, extending my arm out for him to shake and make the bet official.   
  
"You're on."  
  
As Bokuto starts to shove the sugary pastries into his mouth Kuroo inches over to Natsu, leaning down to whisper, "Hey sweet pea, you should get some wet wipes ready cuz this isn't gonna end pretty."  
  
"Way ahead of you," she laughs, patting the bag that hangs off of her shoulder.   
  
Surprisingly Bokuto doesn't puke, and I begrudgingly hand over the money I lost as we step onto the elevator at the entrance of the ride, muttering under my breath about dumbasses with stupid hair.   
  
Hinata and Kenma are huddled together, planning to be put in the same buggy, but their plans are ruined as I see Kuroo and Suga nod at each other before "slyly" stepping between the two until Hinata and I are pushed together. I make a mental note to get back at Suga and his childish games somehow later.   
  
The ride isn't scary at all; a few jump scares here and there but mostly just cheesy special effects and a lot of spinning. Despite that, Hinata clings closely to my side and jumps at everything that pops out in front of us, his fingers wrapping firmly on my sleeve like they have been all day. Not that I'm complaining.   
  
"I liked the space one better," he tells me, untangling his fingers long enough to sign and then immediately returning them.   
  
"Wait until it ballroom dancing ghosts," I tell him, smiling despite myself. "They're really cool."  
  
As we pass over the balcony overlooking the ballroom Hinata leans forward, breaking out into a grin that pulls my attention away from everything around us.   
  
"Wow," he whispers, his voice somehow traveling to my ears over the din of music and other riders laughing or screaming. I don't know how he does it, I honestly don't, but everything feels better when he's smiling next to me.   
  
When we get off the ride Kenma looks extremely relieved, and I swear the collar of Suga's shirt and Daichi's hair seem a bit more rumpled than they were before they climbed inside the buggy.   
  
"Lunchtime?" Daichi asks, smoothing down his hair on the sides, Suga shooting him a smirk from the side.   
  
"Hold on bro," Bokuto blurts, holding a hand over his mouth. "I'm just gonna sit down for a minute." He doesn't make it two steps before he coughs up all twenty-something churros he shoved in his mouth ten minutes before. Natsu sighs, pulling the wet wipes from her bag and shaking her head in disapproval.   
  
"Hey, I want my money back," I say, earning a slap on the arm from Suga who tells me to "be nice".  
  
This day is shaping up better than I expected it to.   
  
***  
  
After lunch, which might as well be considered dinner since it's already almost 4pm, Suga drags everyone into a gift shop full of cheesy hats and t-shirts.   
  
"Oh Daichi let's get these ones!" He gushes, plucking two of those awful tuxedo Mickey ear hats from the bride and groom display.   
  
"Stop being gross," I tell them, wandering over to the character hats where Kuroo is forcing a pair of Cheshire Cat ears on Kenma and fitting a green Mad Hatter top hat on his own head.   
  
"Bro look at this one!" Bokuto calls, popping out from behind a display wearing a big floppy Goofy hat with hanging ear flaps. Hinata giggles and shoots him an approving thumbs up.   
  
I see Oikawa eyeing the Toy Story alien hats and head to the other side of the store before he can start asking me if he looks better in the alien knit cap or the baseball cap with antennae.   
  
Natsu runs up to me, a glittery Minnie Mouse headband with a huge red and white bow planted on her head, Hinata close behind her wearing the sorcerer's hat from Fantasia, and shoves a hat in my hands. "We found the perfect one for you Kageyama!"  
  
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I growl, turning the hat over in my hands. It's a baseball cap with the glowering face of Grumpy the dwarf staring up at me, probably mirroring my own expression, his big bulbous nose sticking out just above the bill. "There's no way I'm wearing this."  
  
"That's not even the best part!" Hinata signs, jumping up and down again. He sticks his hand inside the hat, pulling down a trailing fake beard that hangs from the sides.   
  
"Oh no. No no no. Go put this back." I shove the hat back towards Natsu who is physically holding back her giggles.   
  
"Please Kageyama! At least try it on," she pleads, standing on her tiptoes to force the hat on my head. The beard falls down around my face, hanging a couple inches underneath my chin.   
  
Both of them burst into laughter as I rip the hat off, tossing it on a nearby display and grabbing a pair of classic black ears, marching them up to the register before they can force me to buy the awful dwarf hat.   
  
Once everyone pays we all march out of the store looking like a band of dorks in our cheesy souvenir hats, the winter sun starting to set behind the castle. The air starts to chill as we pass by the entrance of Splash Mountain which is, as expected, empty.   
  
"Hey no line!" Bokuto calls, heading towards the terminal excitedly. "Let's get on!"  
  
"You get wet on this one. It's too cold for that," Suga explains, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, his breath starting to fog in the frigid air.   
  
"Let's get on it anyway! Kuroo come on!"  
  
"Hell yeah, Bo!" Kuroo laughs, jumping over the low fence and following his friend.   
  
"Yeah!" Hinata chimes, stepping forward to follow them but stopping as Natsu grabs onto his arm.   
  
"Shouyou don't you _dare_ ," she warns, narrowing her eyes and looking scarier than I've ever seen her. "You're going to get sick."  
  
"Pleeeeease," he begs, trying his best to inch his arm out of her grasp. "I won't get wet I promise!"  
  
"Absolutely not."  
  
"It's not a very good idea," Suga agrees gently, giving Hinata a sympathetic look.   
  
Neither Natsu’s warnings nor Suga's sympathy has any affect, however, and before she can stop him Hinata pulls free of his sister's grasp and grabs my sleeve before sprinting up the hallway after Bokuto and Kuroo.   
  
"Hey!" I honestly don't want to be murdered by Natsu _and_ Suga, but running behind Hinata and listening to his melodic laughter as we make our way to the boarding area cuts the edge of the death sentence that waits for us on the other side. By the time we catch up even I'm laughing, the whimsicality of the moment taking over my better judgment.   
  
The four of us take our seats in a log, sat single file with Bokuto in the front and me in the back. We're all graced again with Bokuto's bellowing of Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah as the log floats past the creepy animatronic farm animals, Hinata turning in his seat to point out various things he finds funny.   
  
"You'd better sit down, we're getting close to the drop," I tell him, pointing forward to the opening at the top of the hill we're climbing.   
  
"Drop?"  
  
"Oh god."  
  
I reach around the back of his seat to flip him around, pulling his back towards the seat just as the log inches over the top of the hill, dropping us fifty feet towards freezing cold water. All four of us scream like idiots, Hinata grabbing onto my arms wrapped around his middle as I press my face against the back of his seat.   
  
And then it happens. The wave crashes down, soaking us all to the bone in one fell swoop. I've never been so cold in my life, my teeth chattering so hard it vibrates my entire skull.   
  
"M-maybe that wasn't a great-t idea," Kuroo shivers; rubbing at his arms even though all of his clothes are completely wet.   
  
"I th-think we're gonna d-die, bro," Bokuto agrees, pulling his dripping jacket off.   
  
"Let's do it again," Hinata says, his hands shaking so hard I can barely understand what he says. He tries to smile at me, stretching his blue lips over his chattering teeth.   
  
I don't have a chance to answer before Natsu marches over to us and hits us all as hard as she can manage, which is harder than you'd expect a five foot little girl is capable of.   
  
"You _IDIOTS_ ," she shrieks, her brown eyes murderous. "Do you all want pneumonia?"  
  
"Come on, you all need to change your clothes," Suga chides, giving me a look that isn't angry but is meant to make me feel ashamed, which I'm not. Kuroo manages to buy the ride photo before we're all dragged back to the hotel.   
  
After warm showers and dry clothes we order some room service food, everyone gathering in the middle room (which happens to be the one I'm sharing with the Hinata and Natsu) to eat dinner and watch the Little Mermaid on the tiny TV.   
  
Suga and Daichi are the first to turn in, barely after Part of your World, Oikawa following shortly after and shutting the door connecting our room to theirs behind him. When the credits roll Kuroo wakes up Bokuto and Kenma who are both asleep on the carpet and take them with him to their room, shutting the door on their side also.   
  
I can hear them arguing about sleeping arrangements again and eventually there's the sound of scraping furniture as they push the two beds together so they're all three in one big bed. Goddam dorks.   
  
Natsu turns off the lamp on her side of the room and rolls over without telling either Hinata or I goodnight, still livid with us for the Splash Mountain incident, and even more so since Kuroo proudly displayed our photo next to the TV.   
  
"Goodnight," Hinata signs, barely visible in the dim light from the lamp on my side of the shared table.   
  
"Goodnight," I answer, pulling my hands out from under the blanket to form the words.   
  
The light goes off, darkness blanketing the room, and my thoughts start to whirl. The unfamiliar bed, the eventful day, the buzz of excitement and anxiety still fraying the edges of my mind all swirling together behind my eyelids, forming dark patterns in my head and making sleep near impossible.   
  
I watch the red numbers tick by on the hotel alarm clock for a few hours, listening to the soft sound of my friends sleeping on the other side of the room, trying to match the pace of my breathing to theirs to calm my nerves and help me start to drift off.  
  
My arm still tingles where Hinata kept clutching at it all day, the feeling lingering and doing nothing to help the racing imagery in my head.   
  
The lamp clicks on suddenly, illuminating a sleepy Hinata standing inches away from my bed and scaring me half to death. He rubs a fist against his eye as we adjust to the light, letting out a quiet yawn.   
  
"Natsu kicks," he explains, speaking the simple words out loud, too tired to sign.   
  
"Oh," I mumble, still taken aback by his sudden appearance. "You can sleep here. I'll sleep on the floor."   
  
I start to grab a few pillows to toss on the ground but he grabs my arm, exactly in the spot that still tingles from his touch. "Stay."  
  
"A-are you sure it's alright?" I ask, slowly setting the pillows back down. He nods, shooting me a sleepy smile before plopping down on the far side of the bed.   
  
I follow his lead, scooting over the side opposite him and pulling the covers back up around me. My heart races and I figure I'll never get to sleep like this, but as soon as Hinata turns the lamp off and my head hits the pillow I'm out, every anxious thought in my mind calmed for once in my life.   
  
***  
  
I've always hated dreaming. The places I travel to while my mind is at rest and my body is fighting off the demons that attached themselves to my skin with serrated claws and hooked fangs during the day are too bright, beckoning with softened colors and feelings that are so much more than the real world has to offer. And I hate it.   
  
I hate it because it makes me feel so good. The lives I live in my dreams are everything I want for myself in reality, but everything I can't have. It's incomparable, quickly fleeting and just out of reach.   
  
I hate to dream because I hate to wake up. I loathe opening my eyes every morning to see a bleak gray wall and a glass paneled window that might as well be iron bars across my soul.   
  
But on the morning of my 24th birthday the scene I wake up to is finally better than anything I could fathom in the cloudy spaces between sleep and reality.   
  
My eyes are still heavy, not quite awake, when I see it; a lightly snoozing Hinata laying across from me on the hotel bed, not too far away but not touching. My first instinct is to panic, cold dread inching its way into my throat until I remember the night before, beating the feeling down to a dull throb.   
  
Hinata lies on his stomach, his face turned toward me with one hand flat against the sheets, inches away from my own. He's so still I'd be worried if I couldn't hear the feather light sound of air escaping between his slightly open mouth.   
  
There's a good amount of distance between us, no embarrassing tangled limbs or accidental spooning (thank god), but our hands are so close there's only a small space separating our fingertips. The morning light streaming in through the hotel window outlines Hinata in a golden glow, like the silver lining on a summer cloud, and once again I let the atmosphere take over my better judgment.   
  
Lifting myself slowly onto my elbow so that I hover inches above the pillow I let my tingling fingertips inch across the space of white fabric. I don't know if I have a plan, I usually don't when I do stupid things like try to hold another man's hand as he sleeps, not thinking at all about how he might react.   
  
I never do find out, the side door to our room bursting open with a bang and causing me to sit bolt upright in the bed, startling Hinata awake in the process.   
  
"Rise and shine sleepyheads!!" Suga sings, stepping up to my bed with a blinding smile that quickly shifts to a look of surprise, one silver eyebrow cocked as he eyes the sleepy figure next to me.   
  
Hinata yawns loudly, stretching his arms above his head and signing a quick "good morning" without even fully opening his eyes.   
  
"Oh?" Suga asks, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and I push him as I stand up before Hinata decides to look up and join the conversation. "Care to clue me in?"  
  
"Not even a little bit."  
  
"Natsu?" He asks, sighing and turning away from me. He knows a lost cause when he sees it.   
  
"Shouyou was in my bed when I fell asleep and when I woke up he was over there," she shrugs, pretending that she isn't smirking even though I can _see_ it.   
  
"How long have you been awake?" I try to keep the obvious embarrassment out of my voice but fail miserably.   
  
"Like half an hour. But nice of you to notice me, Romeo," she winks, letting that devilish grin come out on full display.   
  
Hinata gets out of the bed, eyes still bleary as he quickly asks if any of us need the bathroom before heading in and turning on the shower water as I thank any god that's listening that he isn't a morning person.   
  
"Fuck you both," I growl, grabbing my toothbrush and clothes for the shower even though I can't use the bathroom yet.   
  
"Tsk tsk, Kageyama. That's no way to talk to a lady," Natsu chides, looking up at Suga who's holding a laugh back behind his hand.   
  
"Oikawa and Daichi went down to grab breakfast. You can use our shower," he tells me, and I bolt out of the room before the consequences of leaving those two alone together can sink in.   
  
I don't know which is hotter; the steaming shower water or my furiously blushing face. Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with me lately? First the lip thing and now the hands, I really _really_ need to get a hold of myself. It's like museum rules: "don't touch the artwork". Words to live by.   
  
After everyone is showered and dressed Natsu makes her way into the third room to drag Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kenma out of their stupid double bed, throwing clothes at them and telling them to hurry up so we can join the others for breakfast. Suga already went down to find Daichi, Hinata and I heading down shortly after and leaving Natsu to deal with the remaining group members.   
  
"Did I kick you last night?" Hinata asks, looking up at me with those big, brown doe eyes that make me weak at the knees and want to punch myself in the face all at the same time.   
  
"Oh, uh, no. Not at all," I say, thinking back to the night before. "Actually I don't really know. I slept like a log."  
  
"Well that's good," he smiles, and my stupid heart starts doing cartwheels in my chest no matter how much I will it to _calm the fuck down_.  
  
We meet up with the others at the breakfast bar where they sit with empty plates and full coffee mugs, chatting brightly about the plans for the day, Oikawa not shutting up about the cute cast member at Space Mountain. We sit down at the table, breakfast in hand, and join in the conversation. Suga eyes my cereal bowl with disapproval, claiming that I should have some "real food" since it's literally right in front of me. I swipe a spoonful of Hinata's scrambled eggs so he'll shut up.   
  
Natsu finally manages to get the others down to join us and within the hour the nine of us are heading back into the park, cheesy hats atop all of our heads and smiles on most of our faces.   
  
The day goes rather slowly, jumping on whatever rides we happen to pass and just enjoying our time away from home and everything it holds over us. Hinata starts to sniffle and sneeze around noon, the start of a cold from last night's Splash Mountain incident, but he does his best to hide it so he doesn't have to face Natsu's death glare and "I told you so".   
  
Speaking of Natsu, she sticks uncomfortably close to Suga all day, the two of them whispering and giggling, throwing a few playful smiles my way and earning a lot of my middle finger. I try to ignore them as best I can, wanting no part in whatever they're laughing about.   
  
We sit down for an early dinner at one of the little restaurants that line almost every walkway in the park, all squishing into two nearby tables to keep an easy conversation going.   
  
"They're doing the first Christmas tree lighting tonight!" Natsu calls out excitedly, pointing at the date on the December park schedule. "We should stay to see it."  
  
"And there's a parade!" Bokuto adds, leaning over both tables to read the time and location.   
  
"Shouldn't we let Kageyama decide?" Kuroo asks, taking a bite of his sandwich and shrugging.   
  
"Me? Why?"  
  
Hinata practically jumps out of his chair beside me, looking as if he's about to burst with excitement. Did I miss something? "Because it's your special day!" He signs, smiling so wide I'm sure it has to hurt.   
  
Oh. That.   
  
"Suga I swear to god," I growl, glaring at my best friend as he hides sheepishly behind his boyfriend's shoulder.    
  
"I told everyone before you told me not to," he admits, smiling tentatively in an attempt to gain my forgiveness.   
  
"There's nothing you can do about it now, Tobio! Let's sing!" Oikawa starts to clap, counting down for everyone to start the song. I have never wanted to punch him so badly in my life.   
  
As everyone sings, attracting so much unwanted attention from the other customers in the restaurant; I can feel my anxiety levels rising, the only thing keeping it under control being Hinata quietly humming beside me, a few seconds behind the others in the song.   
  
"Alright alright, thanks, now sit the fuck down all of you," I mutter, squirming under the attention like a bug under the beam of a magnifying glass.   
  
"Let us give you our presents and then we'll leave you alone. Promise," Daichi says, a look of sympathy on his face.   
  
"Fine," I groan, my skin crawling with the curious gazes of strangers, even the attention of my friends starting to become too much. "Make it quick."  
  
They all start to push cheesy Disney trinkets at me, most of it Grumpy merchandise (am I really that bad?), and I have no idea where they kept it all or how they managed to buy all of this stuff without me noticing. They all seem rather pleased with themselves.   
  
Everyone in the restaurant seems to have lost interest, the nervousness loosening its grip on my heart just a bit. Suga tries to divert the conversation back to the parade plans, probably noticing my discomfort, and I silently thank him even though this whole scene was his fault in the first place.   
  
Once we leave the restaurant, the open air feeling so much better than the cramped space indoors, I start to calm down considerably. We walk aimlessly for a while, making a roundabout way towards Main Street where the parade will start in about two hours, everyone exhausted but not quite ready to head back home.   
  
I'm not paying much attention, just watching my shoes shuffle along on the pavement, when I feel something tug on my sleeve. Hinata is gripping onto my arm again, his fingers around the fabric as he points to the side of us toward a huge duck pond.   
  
"Ducklings," he tells me, taking his hand away and then pointing at the pond again. Sure enough, there's a mother duck standing on the edge with four little babies huddled behind her. Hinata watches them carefully, grabbing the wooden fence post and leaning forward, the light catching in his eyelashes as he blinks.   
  
"Do you want to feed them?" I ask, tapping his shoulder to bring his attention back to me.   
  
"Feed them what?" I can see him mentally struggling to pay attention to the conversation, his eyes wandering back to the ducklings before snapping back to me.   
  
"Hold on," I tell him, turning and walking away, looking for the closest snack vendor. The best option for duck food I can find is a bag of plain potato chips which I buy before hurrying back.   
  
I don't think he even realized I left, still watching with wide eyes as the ducklings swim slow circles in the shallow water by the edge. I toss a few chips onto the dirt and they all dash out of the water, coming close to the fence and chomping on the food.   
  
Hinata whips around, smiling wide and eyes sparkling as he reaches for the bag of chips. He starts to drop them strategically, each one closer to the fence than the last until the ducklings are inches away from him. I watch from the side as he reaches a hand between the wooden posts, expecting the ducklings to dart back to their mother the second they catch sight of his outstretched fingers, but surprisingly one of them cuddles up to his palm. Soon enough all four are flapping their downy wings as Hinata pets them gently with his finger tips, giggling like a schoolgirl.   
  
He looks up at me, pride beaming from his face, and I sigh, shaking my head despite my slight smile. I can't let tiny gingers and ducklings ruin my disgruntled demeanor, I'd never forgive myself, even though on the inside my heart is fluttering and I'm imagining just what chords I could use to duplicate the sound of that giggling.   
  
"Come on," I sign, grabbing his attention away from his new friends again. "The parade is going to start soon."  
  
He nods, waving goodbye to the ducklings before standing up. That's about when I realize that the rest of the group is gone, probably not even noticing that the two of us stopped walking.   
  
"Shit," I mutter, standing up taller to scan the crowd even though they're long gone by now. I pull out my phone, pulling up Suga's contact but I have no service in the crowded park.   
  
Hinata looks up at me worriedly, his eyebrows pinched together as he asks "Is everything okay?"  
  
"I can't call the others. Does your phone have service?" He pulls it out to check, shaking his head no when he sees that it doesn't have any bars.   
  
"Great. What do we do now?"  
  
"Weren't they going to Main Street for the parade? We could probably find them there," he suggests, shrugging apologetically. I nod, turning down the path that leads in the direction we need to go, Hinata latching onto my sleeve once again.   
  
The group is nowhere to be found. We search throughout the entire parade, marching along both sides of the street multiple times well after nightfall and finding nothing. It's as if they just disappeared completely.   
  
"I don't know where else to look," I say, turning towards Hinata on the brightly lit sidewalk, desperation and aggravation heavy in my voice.   
  
"Maybe it'll be easier to look once the crowd thins. They won't leave without us." He's like the little angel sitting on my shoulder; the voice of reason keeping me from panicking completely.   
  
"All right. We'll stay here until the parade is over."  
  
"I think they're starting the lighting," he says, pointing towards the huge Christmas tree sitting in the center of the plaza. We're so far back in the crowd that we can only really see the top half of the tree, but that's enough.   
  
The lights start from the bottom, spiraling up through the branches as one bulb illuminates at a time, changing patterns and colors as they crawl slowly up the tree. When the strings reach all the way to the top they all turn off, the tree going completely dark again, but then the shapes start. Stars, bells, snowflakes; bursts of colored shapes exploding along the sides of the tree like fireworks. It's mesmerizing.   
  
Hinata's fingers have found their place on my arm again, fitting there now like a puzzle piece, but as the show goes on, both of us getting lost in the patterns that light up our faces and our hearts, his fingers start to move. By the time the star on top of the tree finally illuminates, scattering sparks of gold across the plaza, tiny warm fingers have intertwined with my own, making themselves at home in my palm. And I don't mind it. Not one bit. For once there isn't a single part of me that wants to pull away.   
  
There's a shout of "There they are!" behind us in the crowd and just like that the atmosphere is shattered. I pull my hand away, turning around so I don't have to see Hinata's face when he feels the absence of my fingers, and seeing the rest of our group coming up behind us.   
  
"There we are? There _you_ are," I snap, hoping I can tone down the berating from Natsu and Suga if I pretend to blame them for leaving us behind in the first place.   
  
"We've been looking for you everywhere!" Natsu shouts, pulling her arm back to hit me but Suga gently grabs her hand to stop her.   
  
"Where were you?" He asks, his face nothing but worry. Natsu's anger plays perfectly off of his concern. They make an amazing team which I'm almost certain is not a good thing.   
  
"We were looking for you," I answer, shrugging as if it wasn't really a big deal. "And then we got distracted by the tree lighting."  
  
"You looked pretty distracted," Kuroo smirks, waggling his eyebrows as Daichi sniggers behind him. Shit.   
  
"Is it time to go home yet?" Hinata asks, stopping mid sentence to cover his mouth as he yawns.   
  
"Yeah I think we'd better head out before it gets too late," Suga answers, shooting me a pointed look that I choose to ignore.   
  
Everyone agrees, the level of energy in the group significantly lower than it had been the day before. We all say our farewells to Disneyland and head out of the park, the giant pink castle shrinking on the horizon behind us.   
  
We pick our luggage up from the baggage counter at the hotel and make our way back to the train station. The two and a half hour trip back to Miyagi filled with subdued conversation and drooping eyes.   
  
It’s strange, I'm not dreading returning to my empty apartment that holds all of my fears and worries behind its closed doors and dark corners. For once I feel like the life I left behind will welcome me back with open arms, and the world feels okay. Just okay. But, to be honest, just okay is a lot better than I've felt in a long time. 


	7. Maybe You Could Know Me Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this one took forever (I know i said that last time but I really am!). School started and classes have really taken a toll on my writing time but I'm starting to get my rhythm back so i'll try to be more productive with this fic. Anyway, a huge thank you to all of you who have been keeping up with this and have left nice comments or sent messages. You're all amazing! Please enjoy!!
> 
> When the sun found the moon  
> She was drinking tea in a garden  
> Under the green umbrella trees  
> In the middle of summer
> 
> When the moon found the sun  
> He looked like he was barely hanging on  
> But her eyes saved his life  
> In the middle of summer
> 
> \- Panic! at the Disco

Sometimes when I write a song the notes flow out of me like water pouring smoothly over the rocks at the top of a waterfall, cascading down the way nature designed it without rhyme or reason but knowing that the bottom of that fall is where it belongs. That's when it's the easiest.   
  
Sometimes I have to force it, like squeezing the last few stubborn drops of water from a washcloth. I twist and turn, tugging at my chest until something, _anything_ , comes out, as rough and bloody as it may be.   
  
But then there are times like right now, when my hand can't move nearly fast enough while jotting down the sounds that build inside me and burst through like a supernova. It's uncontrollable. Uncontainable. Like a natural disaster tearing its way through whatever it can reach. The music is in charge and I am merely the vessel through which it achieves its goals. This is when it's the toughest.   
  
Nothing else matters until all of the notes are expended, my thoughts completely focused while the melodies roll out like loaded words off the quicksilver tongue of a seasoned liar. Yet they aren't lies, they're so far from it. The things produced in times like this are the truest form of raw honesty that I've ever experienced. I can't lie to myself when my feelings are tearing their way out of me, making themselves heard.   
  
When I finally got home from the trip, Daichi dropping a drowsy Hinata and I off in front of our apartment building, I wanted to sleep for the next decade. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but my mind and body were on two different wavelengths. My skull was pounding with inspiration that needed to come out, either calmly or by ripping me apart it didn't care.   
  
Hinata retired to his apartment, barely coherent enough to wave goodbye and lock the door behind him, and I pretended to do the same. My bag hit the floor and I had a pencil in my hand before I knew what was happening.   
  
And then I was writing.   
  
I wrote everything. The train ride, the sunflowers, the hotel room, the ducks, the tree. Everything. I've never written a song with so much fluctuation in mood yet such an overall positive tone. It's odd but it's fitting. It's truthful.   
  
As my hand flies across the paper, burning graphite trails of flame across the stark white pages, I think I finally understand the colors of Hinata's painting. The beauty in the swirls and shapes finally make sense and for the first time I see them too.   
  
Is this why Suga always loved to watch as I wrote? Is this why my mother would buy me empty music sheets and have me hide them high up on the shelves in my room? But why did my father tear them down from their safe place and tear apart the foundation I had created, scattering it to the wind like the many pages sprawled across my bedroom carpet?  
  
There are some things that have no answer, and some answers you never want to hear because even the mention of them will disintegrate the fragile hold you have on the life you built to escape.   
  
Before I know it writing turns to thinking, thinking becomes remembering, remembering brings nothing but hurt, and the sun is rising.   
  
The song sits finished on my desk, so far away from the spot I occupy on the carpet that I have no recollection of migrating to. My head pounds, sleep deprivation and writing taking its toll, and I figure this spot on the carpet wouldn't be too bad of a place to sleep.   
  
Sleeping on the floor turns out to be a great idea, my head feels wonderful against the short fibers of the carpet and my eyes sing like a church choir as they close over my strained eyes. The dull throb in my skull replaced by a soft knocking against my door.   
  
I don't know how exactly, but I stand to answer it, turning the knob and looking out as best I can muster through blurry eyes. Bright ginger hair catches my attention and I'm suddenly awake, the fatigue draining from my bones and leaving behind an ice water chill in my veins.   
  
"Good morning," he signs, chipper as ever. "Did you sleep at all? You look exhausted." His bright expression turns to one of concern in a matter of seconds.   
  
"Oh, uh, not really," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. Why am I nervous? It's just Hinata. "I was just heading to bed actually."  
  
"I texted you a few times but you didn't answer so I figured I'd come check on you," he tells me, eyebrows still knit together too similarly to Suga's when he's worried.   
  
"My phone was on the table so I didn't hear it. I was working at my desk."  
  
"No problem," he smiles, and it's blinding. Parents know what they're talking about when they warn kids not to look directly at the sun. I never was one to listen to warnings though. "Do you have a minute before you lie down?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," I answer, following behind him as he turns around and heads back through his open apartment door. He heads to the back corner towards the easel, and I feel a pool of dread building in the pit of my stomach.   
  
"I wanted to wait until we got home to give you your real birthday present. I was too tired last night and forgot though, so I'm really sorry it's a day late," he shrugs, his hands falling to his side after finishing the sentence, looking at me sheepishly as if he expects me to be upset or angry, as if he doesn't know that I can't even imagine him ever upsetting me.   
  
"You didn't have to get me anything." I try my best to sign, and I'm getting pretty good at it, because I know if I speak out loud I'll just mumble and that's counterproductive for the both of us.   
  
"I didn't. I made it."  
  
This is not going to end well. My chest is constricting again even though I can hear Natsu's words echoing in my mind; no more running away okay?  
  
I said I wouldn't. I _promised_ , but here I am poised on my back haunches and ready to flee like a cornered animal. I'm a coward. I'm worse than a coward; I'm a _liar_.   
  
Hinata turns the easel around, so similarly to the way he did the day everything went to shit. My breath is made of broken glass, rattling around in my lungs and tearing a trail of anxiety in its wake.   
  
And there it is, the canvas stares me in the face but Hinata does not, his eyes downcast, probably expecting a repeat of my last reaction. But it doesn't come. I don't react at all, because confusion clouds what should have been nervousness.   
  
The painting is black and white. There's a man sitting in the corner of a room, knees pulled to his chest and head down as shadows creep above him along the somber gray walls, claws out and reaching toward him with insidious prowess.   
  
In the corner, the furthest away from the man, there's a light. It's small, completely white, but it seems to have warmth of its own. As I stare at it it seems to grow, no matter how ridiculous that sounds, as if it's going to spread and protect the man from the clawed demons lurking over his head.   
  
It's not a dark scene, even though it appears so at first. It's warm and inviting, despite the center image. And I love it.   
  
"How did you know?" I ask, a loaded question if I've ever heard one. How did he know about the demons that lurk around me? How did he know that they're inches away from sinking their claws in my flesh at any moment? How did he know that the sources of light in my life keep them at bay? But most of all, how did he know that grayscale is easier for me to distinguish than color?  
  
As always, he understands, looking fondly between me and the painting. He lets out a small sigh before lifting his hands to answer; "I kind of guessed."  
  
"How?" I'm pretty sure Hinata isn't a psychic but you can never be too sure.   
  
"Just little things," he starts, rolling his big eyes around as he recalls the clues I've apparently been dropping. "You kept mixing up the blue and green Monopoly money when we played, you once called Natsu's school tie red but it's green, and at Disneyland you kept calling Genie 'that big magic purple guy'," he chuckles at the last part, finishing his sentence before raising his hand higher to hide his smile.   
  
"Genie isn't purple?"  
  
"Nope. He's blue," he explains, and his expression drops back to solemn seriousness. "After last time," he gestures vaguely towards the easel, "I thought I'd done something to upset you, but then I started to think about it a bit and it made sense. That last painting must have looked awful to you."  
  
"Yeah," I admit, looking anywhere but his face because mine is currently burning and for the moment I'm subscribing to the theory that if I can't see him then he can't see me. "I know it was good though."  
  
"It was all right," he says, some sort of quiet emotion that I can't quite pinpoint swimming across his eyes. Regret? Guilt? Disappointment? I'm not as good at reading people as he is. "I like this one a lot better."  
  
"Me too," I tell him, his eyes brightening immediately. I mentally pat myself on the back because, hey, I said something not overwhelmingly stupid for once.   
  
"I'm glad," he smiles, warm and genuine. "By the way I'm really sorry but I'm gonna have to kick you out now. I'm spending Christmas with Natsu and our uncle so I have to head to the train station."  
  
I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. Why am I upset? He's spending Christmas with his family like a normal human being, and it's not as if he won't be back. A few days. I'll be fine. "Oh okay," I croak, "I'll get out of your way then."  
  
He grabs my arm as I turn to leave, signing "don't forget the painting!" at me with a humored chuckle.   
  
I thank him for reminding me before carefully picking up the canvas and heading toward the door.   
  
"Kageyama!" He calls, the sound of his voice catching me off guard. My name rolls like honey off of his tongue. Thick and smooth and _sweet_. I start to turn around again just as he wraps his little arms around me, burying his face in my chest and squeezing. All too soon he lets go, looking up at me with a fond gleam in his eyes. "Get some sleep okay? And have a Merry Christmas," he signs, taking a step back.   
  
"Uh, okay. You too. M-merry Christmas," I stutter, earning a playful smirk as I back out the apartment, the heavy canvas tucked protectively underneath my arm.   
  
I set the painting against the wall by my guitar in the back corner of the living room and it seems to fit there like a puzzle piece. The last ten minutes and the roller coaster of emotions that accompanied it have left me even more exhausted than my all nighter. I don't know how I make it to my bed but finally my face hits the blankets as I fall forward, welcoming the feel of my own bed after multiple nights away.   
  
My mind buzzes on, so many thoughts whirring around and making noise, but somehow sleep finds me. In my dreams the light from the corner of the painting spreads, bleeding over the rough canvas corners and across my dingy carpet, making its way to where I sleep heavily under my covers.   
  
The light stretches its fingers, reaching out as far as it can and touching my skin with its warm tendrils. The contact explodes, lights like fireworks shooting out where the stark white beam meets my skin, and there are so many colors; bright and beautiful and as clear as day. Pure colors swirling around my room and enveloping me in their beauty.   
  
And I can see every one.   
  
***  
  
Christmas isn't anything special. There's no ringing of sleigh bells in the morning air or glittering snowflakes coating everything with a dust of merriment and joy. It's just another day. One in which I'm forced to socialize by some sort of holiday construct.   
  
I don't mind the forced interactions as much as the phone calls. Every year, without fail, my phone rings just after 9am bringing the only thing with the ability to turn my blood to ice with just one word. My parents.   
  
I let it ring a few times before sliding my finger across the screen to answer. The freezing metal bites into my skin as I press the phone against my ear and breathe, "Hello?".  
  
"Merry Christmas Tobi!" My mother's voice is so loud through the tinny phone speakers I cringe, pulling it a few centimeters away from my ear.   
  
"Merry Christmas mom," I return, my stomach turning over and my lungs tightening with every inhale. This isn't normal, right? This isn't how normal people feel when speaking to their parents.   
  
"Oh Tobi you should see the neighborhood, everything is so snowy and the houses are decorated so nicely, it's like a perfect winter wonderland. You'd love it," she gushes, images of the small country town I grew up in passing through my mind. She right, I would love it. Or at least a younger me would have. Years of hiding things that I loved have left me jaded, cold as stone in the eyes of anyone who takes a passing glance.   
  
"Sounds great," I mumble, shifting the phone to my other hand and rubbing my eyes. I want to avoid as many unpleasantries as I can but they're always brimming just below the surface, dark words and stinging memories ready to erupt at a moment’s notice and ruin the false calm we've built.   
  
"Your aunts are coming over for dinner today; they always say how much they miss you and how great it would be to see you. Won't you consider coming home for the day? I'm sure you can make it just in time if you get on the earliest train out." I can feel her hot breath slipping between the teeth of her saccharine smile on the back of my neck, poisoned honey practically dripping though the phone speaker. It'll burn if I let it touch me.   
  
"No, I have plans." It isn't a lie. I'm heading over to Suga's in a while. He spends every Christmas sewing together the burned and broken pieces left after my annual phone call.   
  
"Oh really? Did you meet someone new? A girl maybe?"   
  
"No, mom. Just dinner with some friends." I can hear disappointment hiss in her voice but she doesn't push it. She isn't great, but she isn't dad.   
  
Speak of the devil. "Oh honey your dad wanted to say hello. Hold on just a moment I'll go get him." I highly doubt that. Mom is so desperate for Dad and I to have any semblance of a relationship that even the awful tense conversations we always have are good enough for her. You can't blame her for trying.   
  
There's a ton of rustling on the other side of the line and some mumbling that I can't tell the origin or mood of. No warning of how Dad is feeling today. The phone makes a crinkling sound as it's picked up from its resting place.   
  
"So plans with your friends are more important than visiting your family?" No hello, no how are you, just straight to the point. Not that I expected anything else. The last time we spoke I was less than respectful, and he was less than thrilled.   
  
"I don't really want to spend all of Christmas Day on a train," I tell him, which is completely true. "I was just invited five minutes ago."  
  
"You know you don't need an invitation to come back home. Don't use your mother as an excuse. You just don't want to come." His voice is so deep, reminding me of times when I was younger and he would only use this voice when I was in trouble. Now it's the only voice I hear from him.   
  
He's right, I really don't. I'll have a much better time with my friends. At least they support me. At least they _care_. That's what I want to say. Those are the words fighting to slip between my tightly drawn lips, beating their lettered fists against the walls stretching out in front of them, but the key to open locks crafted from cowardice is not easily found. "I really do have plans."  
  
He lets out a sigh, heavy and through his nose, and I can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose the same way I do when I'm tired and frustrated. Maybe we aren't too different after all. "How long are you going to keep up this charade, Tobio?" Except that we are.   
  
"Charade?"  
  
"This... _life_ you're living," he sneers, the word "life" sounding like acid on his tongue, or venom being spit from the mouth of a cobra. "When are you going to grow up and be a man? Get a real job and get some new friends that aren't useless lowlifes? It's time to stop chasing your idle dreams like a little boy and do something with your life."  
  
My limbs are cold and my blood is hot, boiling beneath the icy skin surrounding it. My body can't tell if I'm angry or hurt, maybe an even less productive version of both. My jaw snaps shut, I can't speak, and so he continues.   
  
"You spend so much time and effort on something that will never pay off. I told you this years ago, Tobio. _Years_.  And look at you now; no more successful than you were before you started college. You're doing nothing but stagnating." His words sound as if they're meant to be soft and encouraging but every syllable sends shards of glass through my heart, tearing and ripping me apart until I feel as if real glass would be more merciful.   
  
"But...you did this," I choke, trying as hard as I can the push the words out around the gurgling pain in my throat. "You bought me that guitar, you told me to work hard. You said you wanted me to make you proud." Whose voice is this? Is it mine? It's hardly recognizable.   
  
"But you didn't."  
  
Another shard, the biggest yet, straight to my core. I'm more wounds than man by now.   
  
"You put your music ahead of everything else and you still haven't shown any results. You're 24, son, not some grade school prodigy. You missed the mark. It's time to put your dreams away and build a life."  
  
"There _is_ nothing else," the gravel is gone from the base of my throat but I still sound torn and battered. "This is all I have."  
  
"Son, listen-"  
  
"No, Dad. You listen." I have no idea where my sudden bravery comes from but I don't question it long enough to lose steam. "I've let you tell me these things before and it ruined me. I let you tear apart everything about the world, everything about _myself_ , that I loved. And I won't do it again. I don't want to be famous or successful. I couldn't give two shits if people know my name twenty years after I die. I just want to be happy, and I'm finally starting to be. And I won't let you take it away from me. Merry Christmas Dad."  
  
I hang up without awaiting his response, letting out a slow exhale as I set the phone down, my breathe shaky and wavering as it passes between my lips. I feel put together right now, but I could fall apart at the slightest provocation.   
  
Leaving my phone on the table where it rests I grab my coat and head outside, the confines of my apartment feeling too much like the squeezing walls around my lungs, forcing me to breathe in and out but threatening to squeeze too hard.   
  
The snowy wind blows across my face and bites at my unprotected fingers but the cold does nothing to penetrate the numbness set deep in my bones.   
  
***  
  
Sugawara Koushi is a rock amidst the tumultuous sea of anxious waves and deep blue unknowns that makes up my life. The one thing that has always kept me steady when the waters threaten to swallow me whole and fill my lungs with choking fluids. Whenever I am upset I find myself on his doorstep, just as I am now, pulled to him like the tides are pulled to the shore.   
  
I don't bother knocking, turning the handle and walking straight in to where I know I will find my friends seated in the living room. Daichi and Suga are cuddled up on one side of the sofa, sitting so close that Oikawa has ample space on the other half. My entrance does little to divert their attention from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (the Jim Carrey version of course) on TV.  
  
"Merry Christmas Kageyama!" Suga calls, eyes still glued to the screen. The other two mumble something similar, too preoccupied with the furry green man.   
  
"Come watch the movie with us," Oikawa says, waving me over to the sofa.   
  
"You all have terrible taste in movies," I mutter as I take a seat on the floor, my back resting against the unused portion of cushions.   
  
"Hey, this is a classic!" Suga laughs at Daichi's protest and lifts his head to kiss the only place on Daichi's face that he can reach, which happens to be the underside of his jaw, as Oikawa and I groan.   
  
"You two are disgusting," I tell them, shaking my head and hoping they can't see through my façade. I adore their relationship even though I'd rather die than admit it.   
  
"What? Does this bother you?" Suga smirks, turning slightly to the side so he can reach Daichi's sweater collar to pull him down and pepper kisses along his throat. Daichi laughs, running has hands down Suga's back and pulling him closer, as if there's any space left between them in the first place.   
  
"Oh god, gross. Look what you did Tobio!" Oikawa covers his eyes with his fingers and turns to the side, sticking his tongue out like a child.   
  
"Alright alright stop it! I was wrong, you aren't disgusting. You're nauseating."  
  
Daichi winks at me with a crooked smile as Oikawa tosses a throw pillow and hits him square in the face. "Hey!" He sits up straight, grabbing for the pillow to launch back the way it came before Suga stops him.   
  
"Okay okay we aren't going to break anything in my living room. Put the weapons down." Without breaking eye contact both men set their pillows down, something in their eyes telling me that this battle is not yet over. "How about you two go make some cocoa?"  
  
After a few minutes of begrudged mumbling and protests Daichi and Oikawa shuffle off to the kitchen, Suga calling after them to behave and not to dare do anything to put his coffee mugs in danger. Once they're out of earshot and making enough noise to cover the sound of a bomb dropping Suga shifts over and turns to face me, patting the spot next to him on the sofa. I plant myself on the cushion but don't meet his curious brown eyes.   
  
"So how'd it go?"  
  
"How'd what go?" I know what he means, and he knows I do, but he always lets me play this little game to give myself time to get ready to talk.   
  
"Your yearly Christmas present. It happened, right?" He's gentle, coaxing the information out in a way that's insistent but not prying. He still coddles me like this after so long, not that I mind.   
  
"Yeah. They called this morning. Invited me to dinner and stuff. Mom was fine, dad was, well, dad," I mutter, willing my throat not to constrict all over again. It's just Suga. I have no reason to worry.   
  
"Just this morning? You'd be on the train all day! That's no way to spend Christmas," he tsks, shaking his head back and forth with the sound. "What'd you say?"  
  
"I told him I had plans," I shrug, pulling my knees up to my chest, the cushion sinking farther down beneath me. "He wasn't happy. Said I was putting my friends ahead of my family."  
  
"We're more your family than they are," he sighs, reaching out and squeezing my knee gently. It's like he pulls my negative energy away through his palm with some weird form of osmosis, or maybe it's just his words that calm me.   
  
"That's not all though. I can handle that." I take a deep steadying breath before continuing, finally turning to meet his eyes. "He told me that I'm wasting my life and I need to do something worthwhile. He wants me to give up music."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Suga's hand flies to his mouth as he turns around to peer at towards the kitchen door, making sure the other two hadn't heard him. He turns back to me, continuing in a much quieter voice. "How could he even suggest that? Does he not know how talented you are?"  
  
"He hast heard anything I've written since ninth grade," I tell him, none of this being new information.   
  
"Well whose fault is that?" I think there's enough blame to go around, but Suga would never assign any my way.   
  
No one speaks for a few minutes, a heavy silence falling over the living room as we listen to the sound of light chattering and clinking mugs coming from the kitchen. It's my voice that finally breaks the lull. "I'm worried, Suga."  
  
"Don't let it get to you, Kageyama. You're worth so much more than their opinions-"  
  
"No not that," I cut him off, waving off the statement even though I appreciate it immensely. "Not entirely. I mean, it's a factor, yes, but there's so much more. My anxiety has been so bad lately, I'm so afraid I'm going to fuck something up again. With you, with my parents, _with Hinata_." The last one comes out as almost a whisper but I know he hears me.   
  
Suga contemplates my words before answering. "Well, for one you can't ruin anything with me. You're stuck with me for life. Like it or not. As for Hinata, I think you'd be surprised to learn how hard it would be for you to get rid of him." There's a slight pull at the corner of his lips that is gone so fast I'm not sure if I imagined it or not. "With your parents I think you need closure."  
  
"Closure? They aren't dead," I scoff, setting my chin on my arms folded across my knees.   
  
"Neither are mine; but after that dinner, after finally telling them how I felt and cutting myself off completely, I've felt loads better. I still think about it, and it still hurts a lot, but now that our relationship is set in stone I feel free. Like I can finally move on and build my own life." Suga smiles brightly despite the somber subject and I'm reminded once again of just how brave he is.   
  
"Maybe you're right," I mumble, looking up towards the forgotten television where the credits are starting to roll for the movie.   
  
"Of course I am! I've been your voice of reason for five years, how could you ever doubt me?"  
  
I open my mouth to rebut just as Oikawa and Daichi burst into the room carrying a wooden tray of steaming mugs. Instead I ask, "What took you guys so long?"   
  
"Oikawa couldn't find his favorite mug and ended up knocking a carton of milk on the floor while looking for it."  
  
"And Daichi used the mix without the peppermint flavor and then _burned_ it, so we had to throw the first batch out."  
  
They scowl at each other across the living room, Suga and I watching silently for a moment before bursting into laughter. The feeling fills my lungs and liberates all of the heavy anxiety that had been filling it this morning. It may be temporary, but it feels so good.   
  
"Hey! The Nightmare Before Christmas is on next," Oikawa beams, pointing at the TV excitedly just as the camera pans over the top of the holiday doors.   
  
"Isn't that a Halloween movie?" I ask, not remembering exactly the plot of the film other than the skeleton man and a guy with two faces.   
  
"The Nightmare Before Christmas is a _holiday_ movie," Daichi informs me, Suga nodding vigorously as he cards his hands through Daichi's hair as he takes a seat on the floor in front of him. "Therefore it should be watched at every holiday."  
  
"This is Halloween" starts to play as a bunch of scary creatures dance and sing in what looks to be a rundown town by a large cemetery, all suggesting a very Halloween aesthetic. "I guess I'll take your word for it," I mutter, taking a sip of my cocoa.   
  
The others are already engrossed in the film so I try my best to let myself sink into the atmosphere of Halloween colliding with Christmas.   
  
Suga was right. _This_ is my family. These are the people who really care about me, really _love_ me, and I them. My home is wherever they are, wherever the hearth of our fiery hearts sets down its flame and brings us together. I'm happy with this family, _truly_ happy, and I am so, so lucky.   
  
***  
  
After Christmas comes New Year's Eve, bringing with it some of the coldest weather I've seen in Miyagi since moving here. It also brings a text invitation to "Kuroo and Bokuto's Big New Year's Bash" on the roof of their apartment building that night.   
  
I exit out of the message to write a different one.   
  
**To: Sugamama  
Did you just get a party invitation?**  
  
I smile at the contact name, something silly I usually wouldn't like except I know Suga hates it. I ought to come up with a matching one for Daichi now that they're practically a parenting duo. My phone buzzes in my hand, signaling a reply.   
  
**From: Sugamama  
Yup. Daichi and Oikawa are coming too. You're going right? We should all probably bring some food to be polite.**  
  
I think about it, not sure if a big loud party is something I'd really enjoy since I hated them so much in college, but I'm surprised to find that I actually _want_ to go. The sinking coldness in my stomach isn't present, and I realize that I don't dread seeing these friends. I actually enjoy them. It's a foreign feeling but not an unwelcome one. I type out a quick reply before jumping in the shower.   
  
**To: Sugamama  
Yeah sure. Pick me up around 7? We can all go shopping before heading over.**  
  
Around seven o'clock Daichi pulls up the curb outside of my apartments in his Mini Cooper, Suga in the passenger seat and Oikawa in the back. We all stop by the grocery store to load up on snacks (getting stuck for almost half an hour behind the other last minute party shoppers), and it's a good thing we did. When we finally arrive at the rooftop door of Kuroo and Bokuto's apartment building we see that there is no food whatsoever, just a table covered in dozens of bottles of hard alcohol next to a beer keg.   
  
"Ooooh geez," Suga whistles, his silver eyebrows arching as he takes in the scene.   
  
"Hey hey!" Kuroo calls, jogging over to us from where he and Bokuto had been kneeling and trying to tap the keg.   
  
"How many people are coming? That's enough alcohol to tranquilize a small village," Daichi asks, expression matching Suga's as he surveys the otherwise empty rooftop.   
  
"Just you guys and some other cool people. Nothing too grand. But hey, it's no fun unless half of us pass out right?" He claps Oikawa on the back with a wide crooked smile, pointing at the plastic bags in our hands. "Did you guys bring food? You're life savers, honestly. Bo and I were gonna get some stuff but we got preoccupied with the booze."  
  
"Uh, yeah," I answer, holding my bags out. "We got some chips and sandwiches and stuff. And it looks like we're gonna need it."  
  
"Hell yeah we are," Kuroo laughs, taking some of the bags and carrying them over to another table surrounded by a cluster of folded lawn chairs. "Party hard boys!"  
  
"Hell yeah!" Bokuto chimes in, standing up from where he finally tapped the keg, wiping his brow with a proud sort of look. "You guys gonna stand there all day? You'll block the entrance!" He smiles widely as he waves us onto the rooftop and I wonder if he's already broken into one of the bottles on the table.   
  
The four of us help set the food up and unfold the chairs before any more guests show up, the first two being people completely new to me.   
  
"Yo Bo! Kuroo! Where's the party at?" The bald one, the taller of the two, yells as they walk onto the rooftop.   
  
"It's right here!" The second one shouts, pointing to his chest with his thumbs. He's tiny, probably smaller than Natsu, and his hair is even dumber than Bokuto's.   
  
"Noya! Tanaka! What took so long?" Bokuto asks, stepping forward to fist bump them both.   
  
"Ryuu got us lost again. We went all the way to the roof on three different buildings. This is the fourth time we've done that intro," the smaller one laughs, smiling so wide that I'm afraid it'll tear his face in half.   
  
"Well Noya didn't want to ask for directions. He said your building was "the big gray one" but they're all gray!"  
  
Bokuto drags them over to where I sit with the others, introducing us all to the newcomers; the bald one being Tanaka and the small one Noya. Kuroo joins us, handing out plastic cups of some green drink that smells heavily of tequila and salt. With everyone talking and laughing so loudly I don't really have a choice to turn it down, taking an experimental sip of the concoction. Not bad to be honest.   
  
"Knock knock!" Natsu's bright voice rings from the rooftop door as she marches in, followed closely by her brother and Kenma. I jump up, knocking the table with my knee and earning a few hidden giggles from Suga and Kuroo which I choose to ignore.   
  
"Hinata? I didn't know you were back in town," I say, sounding more like breathy gasps than actual words.   
  
He smiles at me, nodding and stepping up to the group before signing, "Just got here! We came back early for the party." He grabs for a paper plate and starts to pile it with sandwiches, turning to offer some to Kenma who shakes his head and retreats to a chair at the end of the table. Before long Kuroo has coaxed plastic cups into both of their hands with such sly precision that I don't think they even noticed.   
  
"Is there anything to drink here that isn't pure alcohol?" Natsu asks, rifling through the glass bottles with a mixed look of distaste and disapproval.   
  
"Have no fear lil sis! We got a whole ice chest just for you. There's juice, soda, and some bottled waters," Bokuto explains, motioning to a blue ice chest tucked away beneath the drink table.   
  
"Well aren't you guys thoughtful," she smiles, reaching in and pulling out a plastic bottle of apple juice, letting the lid fall closed with a hollow pop.   
  
Most of the night is a blur of light conversation and silly antics from our hosts and the two newcomers, who turn out to be just as boisterous, if not more, than Kuroo and Bokuto. As the alcohol fog starts to spread farther and farther in my head, loosening my tongue and leaking the tension out of my muscles, I learn one thing; Kuroo is disturbingly sneaky.   
  
Not one cup goes empty with him prowling around like a panther and replacing every dwindling drink with a new fruity concoction laced with booze. He even keeps Natsu's hands full with her juice or cola. I just keep sipping at whatever I have, just like everyone else, not noticing the effects until it's far too late.   
  
A few people resisted at first (Suga claiming he stopped drinking after college, Hinata politely declining, and Kenma just flat out refusing) but eventually they all gave in, leading to a group of nine completely hammered adults and one thoroughly entertained teenage girl.   
  
Somewhere around eleven, or at least what I think is around eleven, Noya stands up suddenly at the table, almost knocking it over and swaying a bit on his feet. "I have a great idea," he tells us, looking everyone in the eye with complete seriousness. I meet his eyes, listening intently as everyone else leans forward in a hushed silence, the only sound being the subdued music coming from the speaker by the doorway. "I'm gonna do a kegstand."  
  
There's only silence for a moment, quickly replaced by a chorus of excited cheering and encouraging "yeah!"s. Noya jumps up excitedly, chattering excitedly with Tanaka, Bokuto, and Hinata who follow him. There's a voice in the back of my mind that says "hey this might not be a super great idea", but that voice is very small and overpowered by the foggy part of my brain that thinks this'll be awesome.   
  
Daichi, Oikawa, Suga, Kuroo, and I gather around the keg, Natsu and Kenma hanging back at the table but still watching with curious eyes. Tanaka and Bokuto each grab a leg, lifting Noya's small frame up with ease as he holds onto the sides of the keg, laughing as Hinata holds the spout up to his mouth.   
  
"Ready?" He asks, his usually clear and calculated voice slurred and messy. I can't help but think that it's still beautiful, still sounding like a summer breeze to my (admittedly very intoxicated) ears.   
  
Noya nods excitedly, opening his mouth for the spout and lifting a hand to give a thumbs up. He starts to drink and we all start to count, chanting the numbers out with increasing excitement. "22, 23, 24, 25..." He holds on, chugging like a champ and I start to worry that he's going to make himself sick. There's no way he can hold that much beer inside his tiny body. "58, 59, 60, 61..."  
  
Noya gives the signal for Hinata to pull the spout back and lets out a huge gasp when he can breathe again and everyone cheers. "Thank," he slurs, taking an unsteady bow and shooting his fists in the air as he's set back on the ground. "I'd like to see you bastards beat _that_. Ima siddown for a minute now," he says, plopping down in the nearest chair and slumping down, falling asleep almost immediately.   
  
"My turn!" Tanaka yells, placing both hands on the rim. "Daichi grab my other leg." Daichi steps forward, handing his cup to Suga to hold.   
  
"Bro, I think we're out of beer," Bokuto says in an awed voice, taking the keg spout from a wide eyed Hinata. Sure enough nothing comes out.   
  
"He drank it all," Hinata signs, looking towards the snoring Noya in the lawn chair. "How much was there?" He asks, turning back to Bokuto.   
  
"There was like an eighth left I think, and it's only a half keg but that's still like..." he starts to count on his fingers, "like ten beers or something." Everyone turns to look back at the snoozing Noya, their faces all varying degrees of impressed (or concern in Suga's case).  
  
"Woooow," Hinata whispers, his lips forming a perfect little pink 'o' that looks so soft and so close and I and feel my cheeks heating up, from my thoughts or from the booze I can't tell. He stands up, so much closer than he was a moment ago crouched on the cement. Am I leaning forward? Is my hand reaching towards the side of his face where I know it fits so perfectly?  
  
"I have an announcement!" Daichi's booming voice drills into my head, sufficiently cutting off whatever I was thinking about. What _was_ I thinking about? "I'm gonna say somethin real important right now guys shhh," he slurs, pushing one finger up against his lips, smiling as his eyes droop.   
  
"What is it?" Suga asks, he's steady on his feet but you can tell just how hammered he is by listening to his voice, every words sounding like a giggle with tiny hiccups in between.   
  
"Suga! I love you," Daichi turns, looking as if he's surprised to find his boyfriend by his side, grabbing Suga's face between his palms as everyone rolls their eyes. Here go the love birds again.   
  
"We knoooooow," Oikawa chimes, sloshing some of the liquid out of his cup as he throws his arm to the side. "You two are madly in love we _get_ it." He sticks his tongue out and everyone laughs.   
  
"I love your face and you make really good spaghetti," Daichi continues, completely ignoring the outburst and everyone's protests to "stop making it gay". "And I really like your bed cuz the blanket has little shapes...what're they?"  
  
"Moons?"  
  
"Yeah! It has little moons and that's good and I want your bed to be my bed will you marry me?" He finishes and everyone goes deathly silent, the jokes put on hold because this is very serious business.   
  
"Oh my god," Suga's eyes start to fill with tears as everyone holds their breath. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Of course I will!" Everyone cheers as Daichi spins Suga around in one of those cheesy Hollywood romcom hugs.   
  
"Let's do it right now! I'll be the minister," Kuroo suggests, pointing to his chest with his thumb. He looks like a professional I think he can handle it.   
  
"Tonight?" Suga asks, turning towards Kuroo but not dropping his hand from Daichi's.   
  
"Yeah! At midnight!" He answers, seeming way more excited about this than I'd expect.   
  
"Can you just do that bro? Can you just marry people?" Bokuto asks, tilting his head to the side, some of his black and white streaked hair falling over one eye, slowly losing volume as the night goes on.   
  
"Yeah bro. Anyone can be a minister you just gotta fill out a thing online," Tanaka answers, nodding his head matter-of-factly. "Are you one, Kuroo?"  
  
"Nope. But it'll be fine," he laughs, waving off the question. Everyone nods in agreement, finding nothing wrong with this plan whatsoever.   
  
Hinata pulls the scarf from around his neck, handing it to Suga and smiling excitedly. "You can use this! It's borrowed and it's blue!" He signs, bouncing up and down in that signature way of his, bits of forgotten thoughts popping back in my head as his eyes sparkle and his orange spikes brush against his forehead.   
  
I shake my head, trying (and failing) to clear it, and translate Hinata's words for the confused looking Suga. "Oh!" He exclaims, holding the scarf up with shocked reverence. "Now I just need something old and something new! Thanks Hinata!"  
  
"I've got something old," Tanaka declares, taking out his wallet and pulling out a little foil square. "I've had this in my wallet since middle school, that's pretty old." He holds the unopened condom out to Suga who laughs and thanks him.   
  
"And here's something new," Oikawa says, picking up an untouched bottle of vodka from the table. "That's everything! What time is it?"  
  
"11:54," Daichi answers, checking his watch. "We'd better start."  
  
Kuroo gathers everyone around in makeshift lawn chair rows, even Natsu and Kenma, and begins the ceremony. Daichi and Suga stand facing each other, hands out before them and clasped together, Hinata's scarf wrapped around Suga's shoulders like a shawl and the vodka and old condom resting by his feet. Kuroo rambles quickly through a crude version of the "we have gathered here today blah blah" bits, sounding very sophisticated to my intoxicated ears. Oikawa carries up two foil safety seals from the necks of opened bottles on a paper plate to emulate wedding bands, the ceremony wrapping up when Bokuto signals ten seconds until midnight.   
  
"You may now kiss your boy," Kuroo smirks, joining in as everyone starts to count down the seconds, clapping and cheering as we reach zero and watch the two lovebirds kiss, fireworks going off behind us as the New Year rolls in. I definitely don't cry.   
  
Hinata, who's seated next to me on one of the fold out lawn chairs turns to me, beaming and laughing as the "newlyweds" try to dance down the narrow aisle between the chairs. Everyone gets up to join them but he just leans his head against my shoulder, the proximity welcome against the icy breeze that starts to roll in, his wide smile starting to fade as his eyes droop. He falls asleep against me, warm and close, his breathing not quite as rapid as the beating of my heart.   
  
I've never kissed someone at midnight on New Years, never tasted bitter alcohol on their lips or felt their hot breath in my mouth, and I never thought I'd want to. But right now I kind of wish Hinata would've stayed awake a bit longer because if I did want that feeling, I think I'd want it with him.   
  
***  
  
I don't really know where I wake up the next morning or how I make it to my apartment and my own bed, but I do know that I spend the next two days in a haze of sleep. By the time work rolls around the following Monday I'm still hung over, wearing sunglasses as I walk into the rec center because the fluorescent bulbs are too harsh on my sensitive eyes. I don't know what Kuroo put in those little plastic cups of sin but I feel like I've been drugged and beaten.   
  
I walk in a bit late (ignoring my phone frantically buzzing in my pocket with a multitude of texts from Suga, all consisting of some variation of "please tell me Daichi and I didn't get fake married at the party oh my god"), hurrying past the throngs of students so I can get to my room and unlock the door before too many people start to crowd in the hallways. As I make my way through the main entryway I pass the center's director, my boss, who catches me by the elbow, stopping my forward march.   
  
"Good morning, Kageyama," he says, his voice gruff but that's just how he always sounds, happy or not. He blends in well with the crowd, no formal attire whatsoever, just a loose hoodie, jeans, and his bleached hair pulled back by a headband.   
  
"Morning, Mr Ukai," I answer, turning towards him but not removing my sunglasses. He definitely knows why I'm wearing them, probably not a stranger to Monday morning hangovers himself, but he doesn't ask me about it.   
  
"Do you think you could come to my office after you finish your classes for today? There's someone coming in who I think you'd like to meet," he tells me, a sort of twinkle in his eye that I can't tell whether is sinister or auspicious.   
  
"Uh, yeah sure. I'm done somewhere around two, is that okay?"   
  
"That'll work just fine," he smiles, patting me on the back with a bit too much force. He's always been a physical sort of in your face guy, but we've always gotten along well. "By the way, before you go," he adds, digging in his bag. "Take this; you look like you'll need it."  
  
He presses a small bottle of Tylenol in my palm and laughs, nodding at me before turning to leave. "Thanks sir," I call after him, earning a short wave.   
  
That tiny white bottle saves my life. I honestly wouldn't have made it through all of my classes today without it, the sounds of out of tune guitars and piano keys pressed too hard drilling into my pounding head with so much force I want to scream. But I don't, because the sweet goddess of acetaminophen is by my side.   
  
Around two I make my way to Ukai's office, half of me wondering who this mystery person I'm supposed to meet is and the other half wondering if the "wait four hours between doses" rule is a serious one.   
  
There are two people waiting for me when I open the door; Ukai sitting behind the desk with his legs propped on top of it, and a tall slender man with hair tinted green and a serious cowlick standing next to him.   
  
"Ah there he is!" Ukai takes his legs down and sits up straight, gesturing to me with his hand that isn't holding a cigarette near the open window on the back wall of the office. "Kageyama, this is Yamaguchi Tadashi, and old friend of mine."  
  
Yamaguchi steps forward and offers his hand to me, smiling brightly (albeit a little bashful) as we shake. "It's nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you."  
  
"You have?"  
  
"Oh yes! Keishin tells me you're a very gifted songwriter. Do you think I could hear some of your work?" He blushes after asking, the tinge making the freckles on his cheeks stand out.   
  
"Y-yeah," I stutter, caught off guard by the whole endeavor. "I've got a few pieces saved on the computer in the recording studio."  
  
"Why don't we all head over there?" Ukai leans forward, stamping his cigarette out in the glass ashtray on his desk and standing up. Yamaguchi turns, stepping out of the office before us and Ukai uses the opportunity to wink at me, as if I'm not already confused enough.   
  
As we make our way down the different hallways we pass by another teacher, struggling to open up her classroom door with a large box perched in her hands. "Need some help there Michimiya?"   
  
"Oh yes please!" She chirps, peeking out from the side of the box to smile at me. "I've been waiting for this shipment for weeks," she tells me as I open the door, letting her pass underneath my arm as I hold it open. She plops the box down on a nearby desk and opens it as the three of us watch, holding up a flower and shooting us another smile. "Sunflowers are so hard to come by this time of year."  
  
"Did you have to special order them? Are they from somewhere exotic?" Yamaguchi asks, stepping forward and peering into the box with wide-eyed curiosity.   
  
"Nope! I found a little florist shop just out of town that keeps them in stock year round. I set up a contract with them to get a monthly shipment," she explains, taking the flowers out of their plastic wrappings, the golden petals catching the light from the classroom window as she moves them around.   
  
"Well I'm sure the ornamental horticulture class will love them," Ukai says, nodding towards Michimiya with a slight pull at his lips. "We've got to get going now, have a good day Miss Yui."  
  
"See ya gentlemen! And thanks again for the help!" We wave goodbye and head back out, heading towards the recording studio. We march forward but my mind remains still, fixated on the way sun shone through those delicate petals, catching fire in the way the colors moved, and I'm reminded of when Hinata told me about his love of sunflowers.   
  
I had told myself that he is a sunflower and I the summer sky, contrasting colors, differing ideas, and I was right. There's something gnawing deep in my chest, desperate to give credence to the thought that blue and orange are so much more than just colors, but I ignore it, not quite willing to get internally metaphorical here in the hallway.   
  
When we finally reach the studio and Ukai waves me over to the main computer desk my thoughts turn away from sunshine and warm breezes to cold fear. I'm usually not too keen to share my work, especially to strangers, and my old apprehensions start to creep back up. I do my best to push them down with whatever pretend courage I can muster and pull up a file containing some of my work.   
  
"Uh, what do you want to hear?" I tap the mouse absentmindedly, not turning to look Ukai and Yamaguchi in the face for fear of losing my false security.  
  
"Why don't you play the most recent one?" I can hear the friendly smile in Yamaguchi's voice, and it calms me down enough to click on the song and press play.   
  
As the music fills the small room I'm taken back to the exact place I was when writing it; I remember that first night I hung out with Hinata at the coffee shop, I remember walking home and seeing the stars arranged like so many tiny messages, and most of all I remember the intense urge to immortalize that moment. The exact way I felt standing on the concrete with my new friend, neither of us having any idea where things would lead or guessing that they would end up they way they have.   
  
When the song ends Yamaguchi asks to hear another, so I choose the first one I ever gave to Hinata, that first encounter in the hallway feeling so distant it could've happened years ago. I remember the thoughts that inspired this song too, the pretend life I'd built up for the neighbor I'd only seen in passing but was so drawn to for who knows what reasons.   
  
I thought so many things about Hinata, so many imaginary little quirks I created for him just to find that he was nothing like what I thought. He's so much better.   
  
I remember the way his face looked when he listened to this song. The way he let the music move through him physically and how that was the first time I truly realized how beautiful he is. I remember how I never forgot, those images so deeply ingrained in my mind that I don't think I'll ever truly lose them.   
  
I get so caught up in my reverie that I don't notice when the song ends, a few minutes of silence hanging in the air before I turn to meet the other two men.   
  
Ukai leans against the back wall far behind Yamaguchi, shooting me a smirk that looks almost proud. Yamaguchi eyes me in a way that I can't quite pinpoint, and frankly it makes me nervous. He only holds that expression for a few moments before he breaks, cracking a shy smile. "That was incredible."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Those pieces. You wrote and recorded those yourself?" He looks excited, as if he's going to start bouncing up and down the way Hinata always does.   
  
"Yeah. I recorded them all here. This is a great facility." I'm still not sure why exactly he's here but I figure throwing in a bit of praise to the establishment won't hurt, and Ukai would probably appreciate it.   
  
"Your work is so raw," Yamaguchi continues, hazel eyes bright. "It's like your instruments are speaking directly from your soul and describing your emotions in ways your words never could. It's honestly entrancing. What's your inspiration?"  
  
"Inspiration?" Hinata. It's Hinata. Before him my music was just noise, it was good but nothing special. Nothing worth mentioning, just like me. But now that he's here it's grown, _I've_ grown. He gave my art meaning.   
  
And suddenly, like the sun spilling over the horizon in the morning, golden rays appearing as if from nowhere and awing the world even though we all know how it happened, something finally clicks in my mind. Hinata is my inspiration and I am an idiot.   
  
Everything I write about him is so raw and heartfelt because I love him. I _love_ him. I am _in love with him_. I'm in love with his voice and in love with his hands, in love with the way his hair bounces and the way his eyes light up in the sun. There are a list of things about him I love not unlike the one I keep for Suga, and I'm so stupid for not realizing it before, or maybe I'm a coward for knowing and not admitting it.   
  
"A combination of things I guess," I shrug, praying that my outward appearance shows nothing of my inner revelations. Maybe if I keep my voice steady they won't notice the way my knees shake or hear the thundering of my heart in my chest.   
  
"I represent an agency that works closely with movie directors and producers," Yamaguchi explains, and I have to make a valiant effort to listen. "We find talented musicians and place them in a setting where they can become professional film composers. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"  
  
There is way too much information flowing into my head at once and building up to where I'm sure I'll explode, the sensory overload starting to fray my nerves. "Uh, yeah! That sounds amazing, actually. And I really appreciate you taking the time to listen to my work but there's somewhere I really need to be right now," I tell him, my words flowing out a mile a minute before I can stop them and sounding foreign in my ears.   
  
"Oh! Well I don't want to keep you. Here," he reaches into his packet and hands me a neat business card, shooting me another warm yet sheepish smile. "Give me a call and we'll talk about it more. And I'd love to hear some more of your work sometime."  
  
"No problem," I say, taking the card and sticking it in my pocket. "Thanks again but I really have to go."  
  
I turn to leave, waving goodbye to Ukai without looking to see what kind of surly expression he's shooting my way. Before I know it my shoes are slapping against the concrete outside as I sprint, not knowing what I'm doing or why I'm doing it but knowing that I need to see Hinata right now, my heart beating like the hooves of a racehorse against my ribs.   
  
In no time I'm up the stairs and in front of his door, struggling to catch my breath as sweat rolls down my forehead despite the freezing temperatures. I waste no time, opening the door and barging straight in.   
  
Hinata stands with his back to me, silhouetted in the window by which he keeps his easel, picking up his brushes and paint tubes from the end table and turning. He doesn't start when he sees me, accustomed to people showing up in his living room without warning. He just smiles, holding up a single finger to tell me he'll be with me in just a moment.   
  
He pulls a paint covered box out from underneath the table and lifts the lid, placing the half empty paints inside. He stands, carrying the dirty brushes to the kitchen where I hear the water turn on as he starts to rinse the used paint from their bristles.   
  
I fall into the recliner, breathing deeply as I try to steady my ragged breaths. What am I doing here? Did I come to confess? Did I just want to see him? I honestly have no idea.   
  
Hinata walks back into the room as his phone starts to vibrate from where he's left it forgotten on the coffee table. It lights up with an unknown number, so I reach forward to grab it, catching his attention. Eyeing the screen he shrugs and nods, telling me to go ahead and answer it. I'm used to him having me or whoever's close to take these calls for him when they come through so I don't hesitate to slide the answer button.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Good afternoon," it's a woman's voice; she sounds rigid in the way she pronounces her words, as if she's a professional of some sort. "I'm looking for Hinata Shouyou. Is this him speaking?"  
  
"No but this is his phone. Would you like me to give him a message for you?" I try to sound friendly, something I've never been good at but I think it goes rather well.   
  
"Is he home?"  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
"I'd rather speak to him directly. Put him on," she cuts me off, an impatient tone growing as the conversation wears on. Her voice starts to irk me. Hinata looks over after putting his brushes away, a look of concern on his face but I just shake my head, assuring him that everything is fine.   
  
"I'm sorry ma'am but Hinata can't talk on the phone, he's deaf," I explain, my own impatience wearing thin which only adds to the saccharine tone of my voice. "But I'd be happy to relay a message to him."  
  
"Deaf? What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean deaf, as in he can't hear." What is this lady's problem?  
  
"That's ridiculous," she says, her cold formality turning to shrill agitation, "my son is not deaf."


	8. Feather Light and Paper Thin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For you, there'll be no more crying.  
> For you, the sun will be shining.  
> And I feel that when I'm with you,  
> It's alright, I know it's right.
> 
> And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score.  
> And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.
> 
> -Fleetwood Mac

There's a certain sense of humor to the world and the way lives unfold, all layering on top of each other and merging at the strangest times. There's an odd sense of irony to it all, staining the corners of our existences with the feeling of artificiality, because how can these things we go through happen to _us_? We're all just unsuspecting cogs in the machine of reality, spinning the way we're designed with nothing to discern us from the gears chugging along next to us.   
  
How is it that when I was in desperate need of a light in my life I was given the sun? How is it that my world that was lacking so much color was blessed with this tiny vibrant person? And how is it that I am sitting in his living room unable to breathe as his mother's voice chills me to the bone with five simple words?  
  
My fingers slack where they hold the phone, almost dropping it onto the floor. I struggle around my tongue to form words as the static silence on the phone speaker starts to become too much. "I-, uh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't know what you mean."  
  
"I mean that last time I checked my son could hear just fine," the woman, Hinata's mother, snaps, and I wince. Her voice is like the crack of a whip, sharp and stinging. It's odd, now that I think about it I don't remember Natsu mentioning anything about her when she told me the story in the coffee shop.   
  
I struggle with words, not knowing how to respond to this woman or how to interpret her claims. There's the distinct low rumble of a man's voice on the other end of the line and a rustling as I assume she puts her hand over the receiver, mumbling back something quick and direct. There's another rustling and then she speaks; "I have to go. I need you to give a very clear message to my son. I want him to meet me at the diner; he'll know what that means, on the tenth. Sometime around three should work. Goodbye."  
  
The abrupt hang up isn't quite as jarring as the rest of the experience but I still jump at the sound. Hinata turns to me, cocking his head to the side to silently ask me if everything is okay. I nod, but he doesn't buy it, scooting closer to the end of the couch near where I sit on the recliner, deflated and confused.   
  
"Who was that?" He asks, a tender tone conveyed in the way he moves his hands. His delicate fingers make my heart skip a beat and I'm reminded of why I came here, only to push it down immediately. He doesn't need to hear that now, doesn't need the burden of my feelings weighing on him along with the information I'm about to give him. That I _have_ to give him, no matter how little I want to.   
  
"It was a woman,” I explain, deciding to sign so he won't see the way my lips tremble over the words. I want to be strong for him. I want to do what I can to help him through whatever shit storm will most likely come from this. "She said...she said she was your mother." The words feel heavy in my palms.   
  
Confusion crosses his face, then realization, followed shortly by the mixture of fear and hurt I'd been expecting. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing and sticking like all of the questions he undeniably has, with no answers to cushion their grind against the walls of his throat. "Did she say what she wanted?" His hands tremble and I want so badly to wrap them in my own and lessen their burden, but this is not the time, and it's definitely not my place.   
  
"She wants you to meet her at the diner at three on the tenth. She said you'd know what that means." I expect more confusion, "the diner" not seeming like a clear enough explanation to me, but he just nods, letting a tiny sigh escape from between his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. And then he's up, crossing the room and scribbling on the calendar next to the doorway to the kitchen, his ginger eyebrows furrowing as he adds in the meeting time and place.   
  
When he finishes he walks into the kitchen, pots and pans shuffling around as he rifles through the cabinets followed shortly by the hollow metal sound of him setting something on the stovetop. I don't know what to do, my hands glued to my kneecaps as I sit motionless in the recliner, at such a loss for words you'd think it was _my_ absentee mother that had just called out of the blue. A kettle starts to whistle in the kitchen and continues for a few minutes before I decide to go check on Hinata.   
  
The kettle is screaming, probably more steam that water by now, and Hinata sits on the floor below it, knees pulled tight to his chest and face buried so far between his arms that all I see his a mess of wild orange hair. I turn the fire off beneath the kettle and move it away from the stove before settling on the floor beside my huddled friend, matching his form and laying my head sideways over my arms so I can look at him.   
  
I don't know how many minutes pass, but I just watch as he breathes in and out, wondering what kind of thoughts race through his head and what I can do to lessen their sting. When he finally lifts his head there are glittering drops clinging to the ends of his lashes, his brown eyes shining with freshly shed tears. I hadn't even noticed he'd been crying, which just makes me wonder when he got so good at hiding it? How many times had he cried alone as quietly as he could manage until the silence came easily?  
  
"When your mother asked for you," I say, breaking the stillness of the room, "I told her you couldn't come to the phone because you can't hear, but she said that's ridiculous and that her son isn't deaf. What did she mean?" I feel as if I'm prying, but my concern overrides my sensitivity.   
  
He doesn't answer at first, resting his chin on his arms and looking past me, training his eyes on the wall. I don't push him, knowing too well the need to collect yourself before answering such heavy questions. Finally he unfolds his arms, still not quite making eye contact as he signs. "I wasn't born deaf. There was," his hands start to tremble and I instinctually reach out to cup my hand over his knee, hoping to calm him but ultimately causing my own pulse to spike. "I had an accident when I was about ten and I ended up pretty hurt. That's how it happened. My mom left my dad right after Natsu was born so she doesn't know."  
  
There are so many things I want to ask, so many extra questions sprouting from that single answer. I want to know how he got hurt, /who/ hurt him. I want to know more about his parents. I want to know if he's _okay_ , but I don't want to push him any more so I settle on something simple. "Is that why your voice is so clear when you speak out loud? I always figured you'd just practiced a lot."  
  
He smiles, chuckling a little bit as he nods his head "yes", and I use the opportunity to pull my hand back. There's an absence of warmth in my palm and an excess of heat on my cheeks, his smile hitting me like a sunbeam. But it's gone as quickly as it came, his serious expression returning like cloud cover.   
  
We sit like that for a few more empty minutes, the light filtering through the windows starting to darken and elongating the shadows across the kitchen floor. "Can I ask you a question?" Hinata asks, and I barely catch the movement out of the corner of my eye.   
  
"Sure," I shrug.   
  
"Will you go with me?"  
  
My breath hitches in my throat as he turns to me with those big chestnut eyes, and I realize two things. First, I'd follow him to the end of the earth if he asked me to. I'd walk into oncoming traffic if it meant I could hold his hand. Second, I am royally fucked.   
  
I nod, not knowing exactly how to answer with the right amount of excitement without making it sound like some vacation trip. He doesn't bounce the way he always does when he's happy; he just smiles weakly and stands up, grabbing the kettle and pouring out the now cold water.   
  
I head home shortly after, and just as I wave goodbye and step over the threshold he wraps his tiny arms around my chest the exact way had the day he gave me that painting. I awkwardly pat his shoulder, completely caught off guard and hoping he can't feel how hard my heart beats beneath his ear. "Thank you," he whispers, squeezing a little tighter before stepping away and closing the door, leaving no time for me to respond even if I had been capable of doing so.   
  
As I head back into my own apartment, the quiet darkness so much emptier than across the hall, I can't help but think of how rocky of a day I've had. In the span of a few hours I realized I am disgustingly in love with one of my closest friends and now I'm going to meet his mother. It's the kind of ridiculous thing that really could only happen in this world that seems to have a personal vendetta against me. To reiterate my thoughts from earlier, I am completely and undeniably fucked.   
  
***  
  
"I still can't believe you let me do that," Suga sighs, shaking his head as if whatever he's upset about is my fault.   
  
"Are you still hung up on that fake wedding thing? I doubt anyone even remembers," I tell him, glancing away from the TV where I'm currently destroying Oikawa in Mario Kart to see his expression.   
  
"Are you kidding!? Everyone remembers! They all texted me about it the next day!" He buries his face in his hands and groans.   
  
"Well, what did Daichi say about it? Hah! Take that Asskawa!" My cartoon motorcycle carrying a fist pumping Bowser crosses over the finish line just before the kart carrying Princess Peach does, earning an indignantly stuck out tongue from Oikawa. He immediately starts to select a new set of races, skipping over the trophy ceremony, and I turn back towards Suga.   
  
"He hasn't. We haven't talked about it at all. I mean, what are we going to say? I'm sorry I professed my undying love for you in front of everybody we know and fake married you? I'd probably catch on fire if he brought it up," he whines, and I can't exactly argue with him. The logic is sound.   
  
"Well maybe you should get _real_ married," Oikawa suggests, not looking away from the screen as he hits the side of my motorcycle and sends me off of the edge of the course. "Tsk tsk, Tobio. You should be a more careful driver."  
  
"What?"  
  
"What?" Oikawa turns toward us as the race ends, brown eyes wide as if he has no idea what he just said.   
  
"Real married!? You're insane," Suga scoffs, burying his face in his hands again and blushing up to the tips of his ears, starkly contrasting with his bright hair.   
  
"Why not?" I shrug, silently sending a blue shell to where I know Oikawa sits in first place and hoping he doesn't notice where it came from. "You obviously love each other."  
  
"Yeah but-"  
  
"You're practically married already- dammit Tobio! That was rude," he pouts, finally setting the controller down as the race ends and I win yet another first place victory.   
  
"He's right," I add, standing to shut the GameCube off on the TV stand, "and you know it has to be true if I'm agreeing with him." I point my thumb sideways at Oikawa who nods, reinforcing my point.   
  
"You act like an old married couple anyway. All you need to do is move in together and you're set," Oikawa shrugs and I nod along, becoming increasingly alarmed with our level of agreement today.   
  
"If we move in together where will you go?" Suga asks, looking as if the idea is starting to sound more plausible to him.   
  
"I'll live with Tobio!"  
  
"You're out of your goddamned mind."  
  
"Until I find my own place of course," he winks, shooting me a quick peace sign. "Wow, so mean Tobio. I thought we were close."  
  
"But we've only been dating since, like, September," Suga argues, trying as hard as he can to find a reason why it's wouldn't work, or maybe just trying to talk himself out of it.   
  
"So what? It's the 21st century. People get married without even meeting each other first nowadays. At least you guys actually love each other," Oikawa says, sounding genuinely comforting. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed.   
  
"Yeah I saw a TV show about that," I add, nodding at Oikawa who gives me a thumbs up. I need to be careful, if we keep getting along this way we might actually seem like friends to the untrained eye.   
  
"Alright."  
  
"Huh?" Both Oikawa and I turn toward Suga, a sudden determination glittering in his eyes.   
  
"Alright. I'll do it. I'll talk to Daichi about it." He looks up, a wide smile spread on his face in place of the embarrassment and uncertainty there had been just moments ago.   
  
There's a few moments of stunned silence before Oikawa and I jump up to congratulate him. It's wonderful, it really is, but I can't help but think that Suga and Daichi getting married would feel like attending my own parent's wedding. Not that that's a bad thing since I've basically already accepted them as my mom and dad.   
  
"Looks like you're gonna have a new roommate Tobio," Oikawa smiles, practically glowing with devious joy.   
  
Oh fuck me.   
  
***  
  
The metaphorical eye of the storm, the calm and quiet center where the frenzy of motion and emotion subsides and allows the world around it to take a wavering breathe; that is what the train ride to Hinata's uncle's house is like.   
  
It's a short ride, just a few stops to the point where the city starts to fade and the roads seems to stretch farther, the space lending salience to the wide open country sky. I can only imagine how it looks at night, littered with a blanket of bright stars, each one brighter and more beautiful than the last, unobstructed by the dirty artificial glow of city lights.   
  
It feels different than the town I came from, even though it's extremely similar. This place feels more open, more inviting, not tied together with dark memories and a guilt driven gravitational pull towards the things that would undo the locks I've fastened around them. This town makes me remember everything I used to love about the country, like a new start in a home I am no longer welcome in.  
  
Hinata doesn't speak during the train ride, and I don't push him. I came here for support, not to pry out information and make this endeavor harder for him than it already is. That doesn't mean I don't worry though; my stomach twists as I watch him stare out the window at the rows of green passing by, eyebrows furrowed and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.   
  
The same silence lingers as we get off at the station, carrying our small bags of overnight clothes and stepping out into the sunshine that feels warm for the first time in months. Maybe it's the clean air or maybe it's the prospect of spring, but I start to feel as if hope is on the horizon; a smidgen of white paint on the canvas of the world, focusing in here on this tiny boy in this tiny town.   
  
It's unlike me to be optimistic like this, to expect good things to come when I know that the wind is blowing sour, but I can't help it. This place, Hinata, these feelings on the tip of my tongue fighting to keep their hold, all inspire me to be different, to be /better/. I want to be someone who deserves to be loved.   
  
The train station has a parking lot big enough to hold maybe fifteen cars, a rough estimate because by "parking lot" I mean "dirt patch in which cars can park".  Nevertheless, there are a few pickup trucks and small family cars settled in the dust. One of which, an old model Ford pickup with chipping white paint and more rust spots than chrome, has a man standing by it, smiling and waving in our direction. He's small, probably barely taller than Hinata himself, and I know at once that this must be Mr Takeda. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I know that the friendly man with big square glasses standing before me is not it.   
  
"Shouyou!" He calls out, waving his hand frantically as if we could miss him in the small space. Hinata drops his expression immediately, exchanging it for such a genuine smile that he almost even convinces _me_.   
  
"It's so good to see you," the man says, wrapping Hinata in his arms, worry ghosting over his face for no more than a second while Hinata can't see his face. I decide immediately that I like him.   
  
"I was just here like two weeks ago," Hinata laughs as he signs, pulling away from his Uncle's small chest.   
  
"I still missed you," he replies, ruffling Hinata's already messy orange curls. "And you must be Kageyama," he beams, turning towards me and extending his hand to shake, "I've heard so much about you."  
  
"Really?" His handshake is firm but with a tender touch.   
  
"Oh yes! Shouyou and Natsu both talk about you all the time. It's great to finally meet you." I highly doubt that. Natsu is too brutally honest to ever paint me in a pleasant light.   
  
"Oh, uh, you too Mr. Takeda" I return, trying my best at a pleasant smile.   
  
"Oh please, call me Uncle Ittetsu," he tells me, waving off my formalities.   
  
"Where's Natsu?" Hinata asks, twisting his head around to peer into the truck cab which is visibly absent of the girl.   
  
"She had something to take care of at school today but she should be home soon," he explains, pulling open the passenger door to the truck and motioning for us to climb in. "Ready to head home boys?"  
  
We both nod and clamber into the truck (Hinata with much more skill than I), the three of us fitting snugly on the truck's bench seat. The roads are bumpy and the ride is anything but smooth, but the scenery is breathtaking. The crisp air leaves an edge of clarity to everything, each blade of grass and cloud in the sky sharply focused.   
  
When the truck turns onto a dirt driveway I'm at a loss for words. The house is gorgeous; an old fashioned ranch house with a wraparound porch, painted the same shade as the sky behind it, the porch awning and window frames a clean white. I'm a twenty four year old city boy but this house makes me want to knit a sweater and drink tea in a rocking chair on the front porch like a farmer's grandma.   
  
"Like it?" Uncle Ittetsu startles me out of my quiet awe, laughing when I jump and patting me on the back.   
  
"It looks great. My grandma had a big ranch house like this. I used to go there in the summers," I tell him, the words slipping from my mouth before I even realize it. Why am I thinking about that? Those memories that are so distant they feel as if they're dreams. And why am I telling them to a man I just met?  
  
"Painted it myself back when the kids were younger. They helped out on the back. Want to see?"  
  
Uncle Ittetsu leads me around to the back of the house as Hinata heads inside with both of our bags, the slap of my shoes on the wooden porch sounding like welcome wishes. As we round the corner I can't help but break out into a huge stupid grin, the sensation unfamiliar on my tight cheeks.   
  
The boards are covered on one half with messy (what I assume is pink) brush strokes just about the height of a toddler, broad and unrefined with chunks of the wall's color poking in between. The other half is more detailed, a perfect row of sunflowers, all facing forward where the sun rises, triangular petals surrounding furry dark centers. There are even birds, some with their wings spread wide high above the flowers and some along the bottom, pecking at fallen seeds.   
  
"I let them paint this when I first took them in; Natsu was only about a year and a half. I thought maybe they'd feel more at home with me if they got to make part of it their own," Uncle Ittetsu tells me, a softness in his voice that I've noticed he gets when talking when talking about his niece and nephew.   
  
"Did it work?"  
  
"Natsu was fine right away; she wasn't really old enough to know any better. Shouyou fought me for a bit though. It was a lot tougher on him since he was so much older, and it was right after his...accident, so that didn't help either. He came out here and added a new flower every time he had a bad day until eventually the wall was full and he stopped needing it."  
  
I don't really know how to respond, picturing tiny Hinata out here every day with angry tears burning tracks down his cheeks as he presses his paintbrush against the wall, all of his hurt and sadness transferring into the pure beauty of his art that I know flows directly from his heart. He's told me before that he loves to paint sunflowers, but I had no idea how much meaning they held for him.   
  
"Come on," Uncle Ittetsu says, clapping a hand on my shoulder and smiling up at me, probably trying to break the heavy air that's formed from the conversation. "Let's sit down for some lunch."   
  
We head in through the back door, the inside of the house completely lit by the warm sunlight filtering through the large windows on every wall. I help Uncle Ittetsu make a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea and set them on the small kitchen table as he heads upstairs to bring Hinata down. I listen to the sound of soft footsteps above my head and wind chimes outside, silently thanking the world for being so kind as to give the Hinata siblings this place so full of unconditional love, and for letting me share in it for even a second.   
  
***  
  
Hinata leads me up the stairs after lunch, the stairs creaking beneath our feet as we climb. The walls are lined with pictures but we walk too fast for me to be able to look at them. I make a note to myself to come back and inspect them later, hopefully without Hinata over my shoulder.   
  
He leads me down a short hall and opens a door to the left, afternoon sun spilling out into the hallway and setting everything afire with its rays. "Come on," he says, almost a whisper, beckoning me inside.   
  
I've never seen Hinata's bedroom in his apartment, but I don't think anything could look quite like this. The walls are completely covered by various scraps of paper or strips of canvas, all filled with paintings. Some are flowers; a group of lilies by the light switch, a bouquet of violets by the desk, and some are animals; a flock of crows next the window, a dozing cat by his bed. There are even some portraits of Natsu and Uncle Ittetsu dispersed around the room, I even spot Kenma's face amongst the images. I could spend hours in here just staring at the walls, every inch different from the next, every turn opening a new world. It's all muddy colors as usual, but this time is doesn't scare me. It makes me want to stay rather than run, even without Natsu's voice ringing in my mind.   
  
Hinata drops onto the bed with a sigh, sinking into the large quilt. He leans down to pick an old volleyball up from next to the nightstand, rolling it around absentmindedly between his palms.   
  
"I didn't know you played volleyball," I say, tapping him on the shoulder before forming the words with my hands, feeling as if my voice would disturb the tranquility of the room.   
  
"I used to play a bit before the, you know," he answers, pointing at his ear and shrugging. "It was really hard to continue afterwards, especially at a new school, so I kinda just quit."  
  
"Maybe we could play sometime. I don't think I've touched a volleyball since middle school PE class but I'm sure I remember a little bit," I tell him, earning a halfhearted smile that makes my heart sing.   
  
"I think there's still a net out in the-," there's a loud crash as the front door is thrown open downstairs, shaking the house and startling Hinata, a shrieking voice filling the house.  
  
"I think Natsu is home," I tell him, his confused look turning to one of realization and then exasperation. He drops his head into his hands with a groan.   
  
"Where is he?" Natsu's voice is so loud it travels up the stairs and through the closed door of her brother's bedroom. Uncle Ittetsu must have answered because seconds later there are footsteps pounding up the stairs, much louder than I ever imagined her tiny body could manage.   
  
She throws the door open, red faced and huffing, still wearing her coat and shoes. "Why didn't you tell me?" She yells the question across the room and Hinata pretends not to see her.   
  
"Hey Natsu," I say, snapping my mouth closed as he shoots me a warning glare. Don't interfere. Got it.   
  
"Shouyou don't you ignore me," she growls, stomping forward and plopping next to him on the bed, taking his chin in her hands and turning his face towards hers. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"How did you find out?" He pulls his face back so he can sign, still not quite making eye contact with his furious little sister.   
  
"Yachi told me on accident. Poor girl almost had a heart attack afterwards. She heard from Kiyoko who heard from Uncle Ittetsu. Word travels fast around here big brother, you know that. So why didn't I know?" I expect the sharp edge to start dropping from her voice but it doesn't, instead it builds, each word becoming angrier as she begins to speak them through her teeth.   
  
"I didn't want you to know," he shrugs, not backing down but not quite fearless. Even that much bravery is impressive; Natsu can be really terrifying. "I would've told you afterwards."  
  
"Hell no. I'm going," she states, standing up and planting her hands on both hips.   
  
"No you're not," he counters, standing and shaking his head, a determined look in his eyes that shows he doesn't intend to back down from this one.   
  
"She's my mother too!" There's a crack in Natsu's voice that threatens tears, and I slip out of the room before they start to flow. I've never seen Natsu cry and I don't want to any time soon.   
  
"Sounds like they're getting pretty lively up there," Uncle Ittetsu says as I step into the kitchen, his brows pulled together as he fills the sink up with soapy water.   
  
"Yeah it was starting to turn ugly so I slipped out," I tell him, stepping next to the sink to rinse the dishes without really thinking about it. "My money is on Natsu."  
  
"I think it's sweet that Shouyou is trying to protect his sister but I think it'll be good for both of them to go. My sister might have made some bad decisions but I don't think she has bad intentions for this meeting." Uncle Ittetsu looks through the window in front of us, not meeting my eyes. Is he reassuring me or himself?  
  
"Have you talked to her recently?"  
  
"No, not since I took the kids in. But I do know that my sister loves her children, and I doubt she'd intentionally hurt them," he answers, a hopeful look glinting in his eyes. I hope he's right, for all of their sakes.   
  
An upstairs door creaks open and two pairs of feet make their way down into the kitchen, the tension gone from between them.   
  
"I'm going tomorrow," Natsu announces, removing the coat she's still wearing and laying it over her arm, "and Shouyou promised never keep something like this from me again."  
  
Hinata files in behind her, looking a bit defeated but overall a little less stressed than before.   
  
"Natsu, I've told you not to bully your brother," Uncle Ittetsu chides, drying his hands on a dark dish towel and handing it to me to do the same.   
  
"I didn't bully him. I just told him how important it is for him to always be honest with me." She plops down in one of the kitchen chairs, ginger pigtails falling over her shoulder. "Besides, I only bully people who annoy me. Like Kageyama."  
  
"Oi! Watch it brat," I snap, trying my best to put on an even mix of apathy and irritation to cover up my inner turmoil. Does Natsu really think I'm annoying? Does _everyone_ think I'm annoying?  
  
"I'm just kidding, you big doof," she laughs, winking at me, and even Hinata giggles a bit.   
  
"I wasn't," I say, painting a smirk on my lips to hide my blatant relief, "you really are a brat."  
  
She leans forward, narrowing her eyes and cupping a hand around her mouth where Hinata can't read her lips. "You're lucky Shouyou is so attached to you or else I'd-,"  
  
"Natsuuuu," Uncle Ittetsu warns, peering into the kitchen from where he's migrated to the living room, tidying up the already immaculate house.   
  
She makes a silly "I'm watching you" motion with two fingers and leans back in her chair. Despite everything, the reasons I've come here and the worry weighing heavily on Hinata's mind, I laugh. Natsu glares daggers at me and I just laugh harder, feeling free as the sound bounces off of the warm walls around me.   
  
***  
  
Anxiety runs high in the ranch house that night, everyone desperately searching for menial tasks to keep them occupied to avoid going to bed and facing tomorrow. We all help cook dinner and clean up afterwards, the work going much faster with four participants and defeating our purposes.   
  
I sweep the entire wraparound porch and Hinata takes out the garbage while Natsu supervises; we even dig around in the storage shed until we find the volleyball net and toss the ball around a bit.   
  
The game seems to soothe Hinata's mind quite a bit, all of his frustration channeling through his palms as he spikes the ball over the net. I do my best to keep tossing the ball in his direction, mesmerized as he jumps so much higher than imaginable for someone of his size, reaching the top of the net with ease as if he's sprouted wings. As the sun starts to set he is outlined in golden light, a halo fitting for an angel, and I fall in love with so much more of him.   
  
It isn't until I'm standing in the shower that I finally stop and breathe, letting the events of the day sink into my skin where I can keep them forever. Uncle Ittetsu sets me up in a spare bedroom upstairs, the walls barren and cold compared to the brightly decorated ones in Hinata's room, but I love it nonetheless.   
  
I peek my head into Hinata's room on the way to mine, wanting to say goodnight before turning in. He's sitting on his bed when I enter, angled away from the door with his head resting against the glass window pane, tiny clouds of condensation forming under his nose and fading with each breath. I flicker the light switch, grabbing his attention and signing "goodnight" before turning to continue down the hallway.   
  
"Kageyama!" He calls behind me, the sound of my name on his tongue stopping me in my tracks, and I hope the blush isn't apparent on my cheeks as I turn back around.   
  
"Yeah?" He doesn't answer, just waves me in, not lifting his head from the window pane as I sit on the edge of his bed. The quilt underneath me is thick and soft, colored a shade that I associate with the green of fresh spring grass, giving the illusion that we're sitting on a cushioned leaf.   
  
Hinata stays quiet for a while, and I let him think, getting lost in the way the sharp edges of his face are softened on his reflection in the glass. It's like the window is the ocean, and he is peering so much deeper than the water's surface and down to his own soul, as soft and beautiful as that mirrored image makes it appear. When he finally turns he sighs deeply, pulling his eyes away from whatever lies outside and meeting mine. "I wanted to thank you for coming with me," he signs, looking down at his fingers as he forms the words.   
  
"Don't worry about it," I shrug, honestly feeling as if coming here was a gift, despite the circumstances. I feel guilty about that, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel more at home in this place than I've felt anywhere for a long time, and by now the list of things I'm guilty of is so long that one more item won't change much.   
  
He sighs again, sitting up straight and angling himself to where our criss crossed knees almost touch together. There's a new look to his eyes, something courageous and just short of ferocious, like fierce determination standing in front of utter fear. "I never told you, did I?" He asks, lifting his hands to sign between us, no trace of the old hesitation now that I've gotten pretty good at reading his sentences. "About my parents?"  
  
"You don't have to," I say, not wanting anything to cause a rift between us again and knowing that this is a touchy subject.   
  
"I want to," he states, shaking his head and letting that faux courage cloud over his eyes again as they flicker downward. "I need to."  
  
I nod, showing him that whatever he needs to say he can. That I will do whatever will make him feel better.   
  
"My mom," he starts, fumbling over the signs and looking down, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face. "My mom left right after Natsu was born, and I still don't know why. I was nine and my dad had to get a second job to make enough money to take care of us. I missed a lot of school days when we couldn't find a sitter for Natsu or my dad couldn't afford day care, and we ended up having to move to a small apartment in a bad part of town."  
  
He lifts his head back up, still not quite meeting my eyes, and I'm grateful. I'd rather him not see the look on my face as I watch him struggle to make his hands move as the story progresses.   
  
"Dad was laid off of one of his jobs and couldn't find another one without overlapping hours, and after a few weeks of not being able to pay the bills he had to find another option. He had met a man at some odd job he'd done on the weekend who was connected to a drug dealer, and he pulled my dad in as a new seller.  I was only ten by then, but I pretty much figured out what he was doing."  
  
I try hard to swallow around the lump that's formed in the base of my throat, every word he says burning in my chest even though it isn't my hurt to feel or my burden to bear.   
  
"It seemed to work for him for a while, we had food and the electricity was on, but strange people were always at our house or dad would be gone for days at a time. Eventually he stopped just selling drugs and started to do them. That's when everything got out of hand."  
  
His hands are shaking and I want so bad to take them in my own. I want to hold his trembling fingers to my chest and let my heart warm them. My heart that beats for him. I want to cradle his face between my palms and kiss his eyelids to make the pain go away.   
  
"After that the money we usually spent on food and stuff went to his habit, and he started to change. I don't think my dad was a bad man, but I think he lost a grip on the part of himself that kept his darkness locked inside. One night, I ran out of milk for Natsu so I asked dad to go get some, but he was gone for hours and didn't return until morning, without the milk he'd gone out for in the first place. I was so stressed, taking care of a baby is tough on a ten year old, and I snapped."  
  
He stops for a minute, taking a deep breath as if he's steeling himself for the next part of the story. I try to do the same, but I don't think there's any kind of armor that will soften the blow of what he has to say.   
  
"I got really upset and started yelling at him, and I shouldn't have because I knew he was stressed too and everything that had happened started because he just wanted to do his best. But I yelled, I screamed as loud as I could and told him he was worthless. That he didn't love us and couldn't take care of us. I told him I was going to run away and take Natsu with me because living on the street would be better than living with him. And then he hit me."  
  
His fingers shake so bad I'm not sure if he can continue, and I'm not sure if I want him to. Silent tears form in my eyes and fall down my cheeks, but Hinata's face stays dry. He is made of something so strong that I can't even imagine it, a titanium heart and diamond soul, and I love him.   
  
"And he hit me. And he kept hitting me, letting out all of his frustration at not being able to provide for his children. Letting out the regret he felt for all of the things I'd screamed that he knew to be true. It went so long that I can't remember all of it. It's mostly just a blur in the back of my mind. Sometimes I wonder if the memories are even real or just some nightmare I dreamed up."  
  
He looks up, turning to peer out the window with a look that isn't anger, but sheer concentration. The stars shine brightly outside, and I wonder if they bring him any comfort.   
  
"When I woke up I couldn't hear, and there was dried blood around my ears from both of my eardrums rupturing. That was the scariest moment of my life, waking up to a world with no sound. I stayed away from school for a few days until by bruises started to heal, but there was nothing I could do to hide the fact I was deaf. I tried to pretend for a while but eventually I was found out and authorities were called. That's how Natsu and I ended up with Kiyoko and were brought here. I don't know what happened to dad after that. I never thought to ask."  
  
He drops his hands in his lap, his story done and over, and he finally turns to look me straight in the eyes. There's a coldness in his irises that I'm not used to, but slowly it's replaced by thick tears that spill over his lashes, his strength gone as he gives in to his dug up hurts.   
  
I don't know what to say, and I'm afraid that nothing I do say will help him. I open my mouth, hoping that some sort of comforting words will spill out but Hinata grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me down to where he can bury his face in my chest, breaking down once he meets the warm fabric.   
  
I just hold him, not in a romantic way, but in a way that conveys everything I can't say out loud. That he's safe, that I will stay here with him, that I won't let him ever go through something like that alone again. That he's going to be okay.   
  
Eventually his tears slow down and his breathing evens out, but his fists don't unclench from my shirt. I don't move, hanging on to the thought that maybe my presence is calming him a bit and that I'm not completely useless. I don't know how long we sit like that, but I do know that he fits against my chest so perfectly it's like he was built to go there and we are two puzzle pieces destined to be put together in this jigsaw of a life we ended up in.   
  
Hinata dozes off against me, his breathing evening out to a steady pace, and I pray that my arms will be enough to make up for all of the nights he spent so alone.   
  
***  
  
I must have fallen asleep with Hinata pressed against my chest because I wake up the next morning in his bed, my arms curled as if a tiny person had been cradled between them, but no such person was to be found.   
  
I hear talking and glass plates clinking downstairs, signaling that everyone else is already up and probably having breakfast. Usually I would have been dying of embarrassment waking up this way, with the smell of Hinata's shampoo still on my shirt, but instead I'm consumed by silent contentment and an overwhelming feeling of guilt.   
  
How could I take advantage of him like this? How could I think about how warm he felt curled against me, or how calming his heartbeat felt against my skin when he was hurting so badly? He poured his heart out to me and all I could think of was how disgustingly in love with him I am. I am the world’s largest piece of shit.   
  
I don't go downstairs right away, taking a few moments to gather my thoughts before sitting up on the thick quilt. When I throw it off and step onto the hardwood floor the world gets immediately colder, draining more and more with each step as I make my way to the spare room to change my clothes. My shirt catches on my face as I pull it off and the scent of Hinata fills my nose, like lavender and sunshine. I fold it neatly before shoving it into my bag, pulling out a long sleeved thermal and some jeans.   
  
When I make it downstairs I'm met with three smiling faces, despite the tension in the air, and I can't help but smile back. Smiling so much isn't normal for me; if I stay around these people much longer they're going to drain me of my constant bitchface.   
  
"Morning sleeping beauty," Natsu grins, winking at me from over her plate of waffles. Why do I get the feeling she knows something she shouldn't? "Sleep well?"  
  
"I guess so," I shrug, taking a seat at the table as Uncle Ittetsu piles waffles onto a plate for me. "It's a lot quieter here than I'm used to. Reminds me of home." The last part kind of slipped out but I don't feel embarrassed.   
  
"You snore," Hinata mumbles, his mouth filled with waffles but his small voice carrying through the kitchen. I drop my fork with a sharp clatter as my eyes fly to his, mirroring the way they widen as he realizes what he said. Natsu's eyebrows raise, I hold my breath, Uncle Ittetsu tries to suppress a smile behind his hand, and then everyone bursts into laughter.   
  
I join them; laughing until my stomach aches and I forget why I started in the first place. Hinata's laugh is like music, his hair bouncing with every gasp for air, and I have never wanted so much to lean forward and touch his lips to mine. I bet they taste like maple syrup and ecstasy.   
  
Uncle Ittetsu talks after everyone catches their breath, snapping me out of my thoughts. "After breakfast we're all going to head over to my shop. Sound good Kageyama?"  
  
"Yes sir," I answer, pouring some fresh coffee into a mug in front of me, the fragrance strong and the steam caressing my face.   
  
I didn't know what kind of shop Uncle Ittetsu runs, but I'm pleasantly curious, so after we clean up breakfast I'm excited to climb into the truck and see what else this little town has in store. Hinata and I sit in the bed, Natsu taking the front seat, the crisp January air feeling nice as it rifles through my hair.   
  
As we come to a stop and clamber over the sides of the old truck a big sign comes into view, reading 'Takeda's' in bold letters.   
  
"Here we are!" Uncle Ittetsu announces, unlocking the door and opening it for the three of us to enter. It’s a florist shop, aisles upon aisles of flowers from ceiling to floor, hundreds of kinds that I've never even seen before, the smells wafting through the warm room absolutely amazing.   
  
"You're a florist?" I ask, reaching out to touch the soft petal of a lily. Suga would love this place.   
  
"Yup! I've owned this place for almost twenty years now," he beams, pride swelling in his chest as he flips the window sign to 'open' and draws the curtains. The shop is even more beautiful with early afternoon sunlight flooding in.   
  
I wander around through the aisles, reading the names of the plants I don't know and learning random facts about what time of year they do best in and how often to water them, absorbing the information no matter how useless it may be to me. Under a big window sits a display of sunflowers, thriving despite their tag that tells me they do best in summer months. "You don't happen to ship to a woman named Michimiya do you?" I call out, turning away from the display to face the front counter.   
  
"I do actually; she set up a monthly contract with me recently. Do you know her?" Uncle Ittetsu cocks his head to the side, the same curious look crossing his face that I see Hinata make constantly.   
  
"I work with her. She was just telling me about this place last week," I tell him, shrugging, "small world I guess."  
  
We only stick around the shop for a few hours before it's time to head to the diner. I watch as Uncle Ittetsu envelopes his niece and nephew in a deathly tight hug, kissing them both on the head and insisting that they call him if anything goes wrong. He shoots me a quick smile and thanks me again for coming along before ushering us out, his eyes betraying the worry he tries to hide.   
  
It's a short walk to the diner that will serve as a meeting place, Hinata bouncing along the sidewalk the entire time with a pace that screams anxiety instead of excitement.   
  
We come up on a little old fashioned building that I assume is the diner, the entire front covered mostly by a long window and a sign above reading 'The Crow's Nest'. It has the same type of dirt parking lot as the train station with a few cars parked to the side, one up front near the restaurant door with a bright silver paint job and not a speck of dust to be found.   
  
"That must be her's," Natsu sighs, squeezing her eyes shut and reaching for her brother's hand before pulling at the diner door. As we enter a tiny blonde girl behind the counter lets out a high pitched "eep!" and runs over to us.   
  
"I'm so sorry I'm so sorry!" She clasps Hinata's free hand between her slender fingers and bows her head, shaking it back and forth as she apologizes. "I didn't mean to tell Natsu! I thought she already knew!"  
  
Hinata just smiles, pulling his hand free of his sister's to pat the girl on the head. "It's alright, Yachi."  
  
"Yeah, it's not your fault he tried to keep it from me," Natsu quips, obviously still bitter at Hinata's attempt at confidentiality. Yachi looks absolutely petrified at the pretend argument.   
  
"This is Kageyama by the way," Natsu adds, gesturing to where I stand behind them. "He's Shouyou's friend." I try to look pleased despite the way the word friend stabs at my chest.   
  
"N-nice to meet you," she stutters, shaking my hand with a nervous smile. There's a small silver band with a single diamond on one of her fingers and I swear I've seen one just like it somewhere else. "You're really big."  
  
Hinata and Natsu giggle as Yachi lets out another "eep!" as if realizing she just said that out loud. "And you're really small," I reply, smiling to myself as her eyes go wide and she blushes. I already like this girl.   
  
"Umm," she starts, looking down at the floor and clasping her hands behind her back. "Your mom is already here and I sat her on the other side of the diner where she couldn't see when you came in." She looks up, tears at the corners of her big brown eyes.   
  
"I almost didn't realize it was her at first," she rambles, blinking her lashes to push away the tears before they spill. "She ordered the apple pie just like she used to, do you want to sit down a moment before going over?"   
  
Hinata just shakes his head, quickly thanking Yachi before asking her to lead us over to his mother's table. As we walk I wonder about how old Yachi is. She must be older than I thought if she knew Hinata's mother before she left them. Maybe she's somewhere around Kiyoko's age, like some sort of immortal elf child.   
  
My thoughts are pulled away from tiny eternal blonde girls as Hinata reaches for my hand as we round the corner to the table where his mother sits. The diner is practically empty, but at the very end of the row of tables sits a woman, her shoulders stiff and her back facing us. Hinata squeezes my fingers and I squeeze back, wordlessly telling him that it'll be okay.   
  
For all of the apprehension Hinata shows, Natsu shows none; striding purposely forward past Yachi and planting herself in the booth across from the woman. Yachi lets out another small 'eep!' as Hinata pulls me after her, scowling protectively as he sits next to his little sister.   
  
The woman, Mz Takeda, looks startled, her eyes wide and lips sealed shut as her children sit before her. Yachi swoops in to take our orders before anyone speaks, and I take the chance to examine the woman. She looks exactly like Natsu, the same delicate curve to her face and ferocity in her eyes, accompanied by a few more age lines, but her fiery hair is replaced by a short cut the same dark color as her brother’s.   
  
"Shouyou, Natsu," she starts after Yachi finally leaves the table, shooting a worried thumbs up as she walks away. "How have you been?"  
  
Natsu looks as if she's about to explode, and I expect her to, but when she speaks her voice is calm and even. "We've been perfectly fine actually. What do you want?" The bite is still present despite her tone.   
  
"I-," her mouth hangs open for a moment before she shuts it back. She seems so much different than when we spoke on the phone, all of the harshness gone from her voice and the severity I expected in her gaze nowhere to be found.   
  
"Well?"   
  
Hinata still grips my hand under the table, finally letting go to lift his hand to quiet his sister, a tiredness to his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. "I don't want an argument," he signs, turning to look his mother in the eye, "I just want to know why you called us here."  
  
She cocks her head to the side confusedly, and I decide that the gesture must be genetic. "Wh-why are you using sign language? What's going on?"  
  
"He says he doesn't want an argument, he just wants to know why you called them here," I explain, and Mz Takeda looks at me as if she just realized I was here. "Also I told you over the phone that your son is deaf."  
  
"And who are you?" There's no bite to her words like her daughter's, just a general curiosity as to whom the stranger accompanying her children and answering her son's phone is.   
  
"Kageyama. I'm Shouyou's friend," Hinata's first name feels odd on my tongue, and I realize I've never actually said it aloud before. "He uh, he asked me to come along."  
  
"Shouyou, is this true?"   
  
"Of course it's true!" Natsu snaps, losing what little patience she still possesses. "What? Do you think he'd make something like that up? You think Shouyou learned sign language for _fun_?"  
  
"No, no of course not," she answers, bowing her head under the glare of her daughter. "I just....how? How did this happen?"  
  
Hinata takes in a sharp breath, his eyes full of fear at his mother's question. He opens his mouth just to snap it back shut, biting his bottom lip and staring down at the table. I can see Natsu's fingers twisting nervous knots in her skirt under the table. Just as Hinata lifts his hands to answer Yachi shows up with our food, the three of us letting out a collective breath as she sets plates and glasses in front of us.   
  
We thank her and she walks away, the tension falling immediately back down around us like an unwanted blanket. No one touches the food; no one speaks until the silence starts to pound against my skull. If this meeting is wearing me down I can only imagine what it's doing to Natsu and Hinata.   
  
Hinata starts to raise his hands again, but Natsu reaches out to cup hers over them, shaking her head. "He doesn't have to tell you that. At least not until you explain some things to _us_."  
  
Mz Takeda drops her gaze, a look crossing her face that I can't really put a finger in. Anger? Fear? Guilt? Shame? She sighs, her shoulders sagging under the weight of all of her unspoken words. "You want to know why I left." It isn't a question.   
  
"Of course we do," Natsu's edge is gone, replaced by a raw sincerity that I've never heard from her before. She's not one to make herself vulnerable, but right now she's completely unprotected, ready for her mother's words to do their work, either sewing closed her old wounds or tearing open fresh ones.   
  
"It's...it's not a good explanation," she says, not looking up from her clasped hands on the table top. "Your father and I were very young when Shouyou was born, and we were naïve, thinking we could handle anything because we loved each other so much. And we loved _you_ so much," she looks up at Hinata who meets her gaze with complete stoicism.   
  
"We pretended everything was wonderful, but after nine years of pretending I couldn't keep it up. We didn't love each other anymore. Well, I didn't love _him_ anymore. And then Natsu was born, and I adored you," she stops to turn to her daughter, tears creeping in her eyes but no such moisture is present from Natsu, "I really did, but I was so scared. I was scared of being stuck in a loveless marriage for twenty more years until you kids moved away and we could finally divorce. I was so afraid, and so stupid, and so overwhelmed, that I just left. And I've regretted it every day since  
  
"I came back a few years later. I wanted to fix things with your father and try to be a family again, but you guys were already gone. The house was gone, your father was in prison, and no one would tell me where my children were," her tears finally spill over her lashes, and she's right, this isn't a good explanation, but I sort of understand her. Fear makes people do stupid things sometimes. I learned that the hard way. "When I found out Ittetsu had you I knew I couldn't just show up and take you back, so I waited. I battled with the social workers until they finally gave me your phone number, and it took me a long time to get up the courage to call you. I'm...," her tears start to fall faster, her bottom lip trembling as she tries to choke them back, "I'm so sorry."  
  
She breaks down, covering her face with her hands and sobbing, choking out an "I'm sorry" between every couple gasps for breath. Natsu turns to her brother and they exchange a silent nod.   
  
Hinata reaches for my hand underneath the table again, and I try to ignore how much I love the feel of his fingers around my own. He squeezes gently before speaking, as if he draws some sort of strength from my presence. He doesn't seem to know how incredibly strong he is on his own. "Mom," he says out loud, cutting off her quiet apologies, "it's okay."  
  
"What?" Her head snaps up, tears still falling from her puffy eyes.   
  
"It's okay," Natsu answers, "the past is the past, and Shouyou has always taught me to look forward, and not to dwell on things we can't change. To grow instead of stagnate. So we forgive you. We want to let you try again."  
  
Hinata nods his head in agreement, smiling that radiant sunshine smile, and reaching forward to lay his hand over top of his mother's. Natsu does the same, and Mz Takeda starts to wipe away her tears, not making much progress since they still flow silently from her eyes.   
  
"If you don't mind," she says, folding up a paper towel to dab at her face, "Shouyou what happened to your hearing?"  
  
Hinata goes rigid again, but relaxes almost immediately. Natsu and I hold our breath as he lifts his hands to answer, the smile on his face seeming out of place.   
  
"I had an accident. Ruptured both of my eardrums. Happened a long time ago," he explains, and it's not a lie, but it's not what I was expecting. It isn't until his mother starts to cry again, apologizing for everything that happened while she was gone that I realize why. After everything he's been through, Hinata was worried about making his mother feel even guiltier than she already does. He doesn't want her to know what kind of place the Hinata household became for him after her disappearance. I didn't think it was possible for someone to be so selfless.   
  
We stay a while longer; the little patchwork family making light conversation, Mz Takeda even speaks to me a bit, thanking me for being there for her children. She reminds me a lot of myself, letting fear dictate her life and ruin things for her, and I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I'm glad that Hinata and Natsu are back in her life. Maybe they can save her like they saved me.   
  
She leaves around five, pulling her son and daughter into a tight hug before climbing in her car and waving as she drives out of the parking lot. The walk back to the flower shop is much less tense, still silent but without the fog of anxiety that had been following us earlier.   
  
The sun is warm, and fresh grass pokes out of the ground where snow had covered it, a sense of newness glinting off of the world around us. Hinata turns his head to look up at me, smiling brightly, and I am overcome with love for these two small people who have become so important to me. They're angels, flying down with their tiny wings and touching the souls of us fallen sinners, saving our lives just by existing. They've made my life whole, giving meaning to the shell of a world I merely existed in before, and I don't deserve them.   
  
No one does. 


	9. I Want To Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what! The lovely fake-plant did some AMAZING fanart for the last chapter! You guys can go check it out right [here!](http://fake-plant.tumblr.com/post/130589592185/i-let-him-think-getting-lost-in-the-way-the-sharp)  
> It's honestly so pretty and I am so flattered <3
> 
> And when the world gets sharp and tries to cut you down to size  
> And makes you feel like giving in  
> Oh, I will stay, I will rain, I will wash the words and pain away  
> And I will chase away the way we push, the way we pull  
> You're beautiful  
> I'll open up and be your parachute  
> And I'll never let you down  
> So open up and be my human angel  
> And we'll only hit the ground running, running
> 
> -Train

There are certain sounds that convey feelings so strong you'd think they entered your body through your soul instead of your ears. The sound of heavy rain on the rooftop calming you when nothing else can, the creak of a floorboard in the middle of the night making your blood run cold, the trill of laughter from someone you love reeling your heart in closer with every breath.   
  
The sound of cardboard hitting the carpet of my living room floor followed by the rattle of the box's contents is sort of like that, making me cringe at the thought of what it entails. The box sits next to a haphazard row of several similar packages, all filled with the belongings of Oikawa Tooru. In _my_ apartment, where _I_ live. It's tragic.   
  
"That's the last one Tobio," Oikawa singsongs, stepping through the door behind me carrying a significantly smaller box than the ones I just finished hauling up the stairs.   
  
"Wonderful," I mutter, leaning against the wall and rethinking my life decisions. I bet two thirds of these boxes are clothes and the rest is his weird alien action figure collection. Garbage cluttering my entryway. "When are you moving out?"  
  
"Depends on how the 'marriage trial period' goes," he shrugs, throwing air quotes up around the silly terminology Suga keeps insisting on using.   
  
Daichi was completely on board with the real wedding idea as soon as it was brought up, but Suga, being the careful worrywart that he is, didn't want to jump into anything too quickly. So, after a lot of talking (during which Oikawa spent an incredible amount of time at my place), they decided to try living together for a while and see how it goes before planning a wedding.   
  
Of course, knowing them, it's going to go beautifully. Honestly, if there's such a thing as soul mates they are the poster children. I've never seen anyone who was so deeply, incredibly, and disgustingly in love with each other.  
  
And that's how I ended up in this roommate situation. "Where are we even going to put all of this junk?"  
  
"It's not junk Tobio, I only keep things that are important," he tells me, opening a box and pulling out two plastic Mulder and Scully dolls from 'The X-files', holding them up for me to see as if it proves anything.   
  
"The same question stands," I growl, rolling my eyes at his toys and opening the box closest to me, finding a dark comforter set with a UFO pattern, bringing up another very important question. "Where are you going to sleep?"  
  
"I've already thought of that! Daichi is going to bring over an old futon from his apartment after work and we'll just set it up in your room," he smiles, nodding as if his plan is great with absolutely zero problems. Unfortunately for him I'm a professional problem finder (part time problem creator).  
  
"That sounds amazing actually," I sneer, pushing the box away and striding over to the sofa, throwing myself down with a dull thump, "we can have pajama parties and play truth or dare. Why didn't we do this sooner?" I cross my arms across my chest, basically throwing a silent tantrum.   
  
Oikawa just shakes his head, digging more stupid knick knacks from his boxes and lining them on the shelf up above my computer desk. He turns to me then, and I swear his eyes trail over my painting in the corner with piqued interest, one perfect eyebrow arched. "Speaking of truth or dare," he smirks, making my stomach flip, "where's your little boy toy at today?"  
  
"Visiting his mom," I answer before actually thinking about the question. "Wait, my _WHAT_?"  
  
He doesn't answer, just bursts into laughter, and I add another entry to the list of sounds that piss me off. Most of the items on that list are somehow related to him. But honestly this time I can't even blame him, the blush burning against my cheeks is completely my own fault. I walked into that one like a freshly windexed glass door.   
  
"Sh-shut up Asskawa," I mutter, looking anywhere but his face. There's a bird on my windowsill, the TV is incredibly dusty, the mail cluttering the coffee table is weeks old. All very interesting. All less embarrassing than that knowing gaze I know sits behind Oikawa's chocolate eyes.   
  
"You're so transparent, Tobio," Oikawa chuckles, wiping an imaginary tear of laughter from his eye, "you couldn't hide your thoughts if you tried."  
  
"You don't know anything." That's probably untrue, no matter how much I want to believe it. Everyone around me seems to know me better than I know myself, which is kind of unsettling.   
  
"I know that you've changed a lot," he says, his expression turning from amusement to something oddly serious.   
  
"What do you mean?" I ask him, meaning to add a bite to my tone but it just comes off as genuine curiosity.   
  
"You're just different. I don't really know how to describe it. Maybe you don't see it, but I do. And Suga does too. Ever since you started talking to Hinata you've gotten...softer," he explains, glancing to the side as he searches for the words to explain his thoughts.   
  
"Softer?" I know that I've tried to become braver since I met Hinata, tried to make myself more worthy of happiness, but softer? I'm not so sure. Is this new me that everyone seems to see better than the old me? Do they like this me better?  
  
"It's like you see things differently," he continues, "you used to see everything as a threat, and you walled yourself off to avoid getting hurt. But now you're more open, like you're ready to accept your feelings even if they end up hurting you. You _care_ about things now."  
  
"I've always cared," I mumble, looking down at my feet and biting at my bottom lip. I must have been doing it for a while without noticing because the salty metallic taste of blood touches the tip of my tongue.   
  
"Well now you show it," he counters, and I'm still not sure how I feel about this serious side of Oikawa that I've only seen a few times. He looks at me for a minute, and I watch as he thinks, so many questions passing across his face as he chooses which one to ask. "You love him don't you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hinata. I can see it when you look at him. I mean, my dating record is pretty colorful, and I've never been in love myself, but I know it when I see it," he says, eyes trailing off as he thinks, his thoughts probably going so much deeper than this conversation. "I see it in the way Suga and Daichi interact, and hear it in the way they say each other's names, and with you, well, it's written all over your face."  
  
"Come on," I sigh, standing and turning back to the open box near the sofa, "let's get you unpacked."  
  
He smiles at me, a real smile, and it suits him well. It’s not a straight answer, but he doesn't need one. He already understands so much more than I could convey through speech.   
  
His words don't bother me like they should, like they would have just a few months ago. The old me would have pushed them away, regarded them as bullshit Oikawa made up just to annoy me, but the new me knows they're true. Things are changing, and I'm not scared, I just hope, beyond everything else, that they're changing for the better.   
  
***  
  
I'm late leaving the house for work the next morning, tripping over a pile of boxes and sending a string of obscenities Oikawa's way, hoping that the rustling I heard within one of the cardboard cubes meant something had broken. As the day wears on, however, I feel better; I'm in an oddly great mood considering that I'm, well, me.   
  
I stop by Michimiya's classroom at the end of the day, finding her unpacking a shipment of pink flowers pushed together in tight little bundles. I don't know the name but I'm sure I saw them in Uncle Ittetsu's shop a few weeks ago. All of my new flower knowledge was pushed away by everything else that happened that weekend, all kind of blending together in my mind. It was just a few weeks ago but it feels so distant, like it took place in an entirely different lifetime.    
  
"New shipment?" I ask, knocking lightly on the threshold and leaning against is as she lifts a bundle to her nose, smiling as she breathes in the fragrance.   
  
"Yup," she answers, beaming as she turns to me, hands overflowing with pink petals. "That flower shop I told you about has such beautiful blooms all year long. I just can't stop ordering them!"  
  
I hum in answer, nodding as she finishes placing the flowers in vases and lining them on a shelf among others. I'm not sure why I came in here, but it makes me feel good to have some small connection back to that little town Hinata came from, that place that welcomed me with so much warmth, even from this far away.   
  
"What kind is that? The pink ones you just got," I ask, pointing at one of the brand new vases.   
  
"Oh! Those are azaleas. Aren't they pretty? They're some of my favorites," she gushes, her face lighting up the same way Kenma's does when you mention Pokémon (he told me his favorite is Espeon but I have no idea what that means). "They symbolize fragility," she continues, her teacher side coming out.   
  
"I like the, uh, stringy things."  
  
"Oh the stamen and pistils? They're for producing pollen. Azaleas' have really long ones that are usually dark pink-," she pauses, looking behind me with surprise, "oh hello Ukai!"  
  
Oh thank god. My salvation. I didn't mean to get dragged into an involuntary botany lesson yet here I am, somehow unwilling to burst Michimiya's bubble. I mean, I'm glad she loves her job, but I was just trying to be pleasant.   
  
"Afternoon Miss Yui," he nods, waving at her before turning to me. "Kageyama! I've been looking for you everywhere. I want to see you in my office."  
  
"Am I in trouble?" I smirk, and the two of them seem pleasantly surprised, cracking small confused smiles themselves.   
  
"Usually," Ukai quips, chuckling under his breath. "Just make it to my office before you leave, brat."  
  
He waves at Michimiya again before heading back the way he came. I turn back to her, shrugging at the strange encounter. "I wonder what I did."  
  
"Probably smiled too much," she answers, a quirk at the corner of her lips, "he must think you're an imposter or something and wants to know where the real Kageyama is."  
  
Apparently everyone has noticed this change in me earlier than I did. Was I really that bad before? "Actually I'm the real Kageyama," I tell her, "the guy you knew was actually the imposter all along."  
  
Michimiya rolls her eyes, pushing me lightly on the shoulder and laughing as she shoves me toward the door. "You'd better go get your punishment."  
  
"If I don't come in tomorrow go to the police and tell them the boss murdered me," I say, earning another laugh as I leave, making my way towards Ukai's office.   
  
It's a short walk and I'm there in no time, pushing the door of the small office open and slipping inside. "You wanted to see me, sir?"  
  
"Yeah, sit down," he answers, a cigarette clenched between his teeth as he points at a chair opposite the desk, eyes not leaving his computer. He finishes typing whatever he's working on, rereading it a few times before clicking a few more buttons and turning to me. The cigarette is mostly a stick of ashes now.   
  
"Yamaguchi dropped by this morning looking for you. He didn't want to interrupt your class so he gave me some info for you," he tells me, watching me through narrowed eyes.   
  
"What'd he say?" I feel a bit of guilt climb into the pit of my stomach. I totally forgot about Yamaguchi's card in the whirlwind of events that happened since I met him. He was nice enough to take his time and listen to my work and I couldn't even give him a call.   
  
Ukai must see this spelled out on my face because he exchanges his serious expression for one of comfort. "Don't worry about not calling him. Tadashi is a really nice guy, he totally won't blame you for it," he tells me, and my stomach unknots a little.   
  
"That being said," he continues, "he was very impressed with your music and he's seriously interested in working with you. Try to be a bit more proactive okay? Opportunities like this don't happen often."  
  
"Opportunities? What info did he give you?" I feel the bite of that old chilling fear crawling up my throat, but I push it down. I've come too far for that.   
  
Ukai takes a long drag from his cigarette before answering me. "He wants you to come to a big audition at the end of the month," he says, pushing a professional looking flyer toward me over the desktop. "It's a huge deal. There's going to be a ton of hot shot composers there scouting for new talent."  
  
The flyer has a list of some of the composers Ukai is talking about along with the name of Yamaguchi's agency. "That's also your invitation so don't lose it."  
  
"I don't know, boss," I say, trying to pinpoint the emotions jumbling around in my chest. Excitement, nervousness, anticipation, fear. Too many to try and unravel. "I don't think I'm cut out for this kind of thing."  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Ukai snuffs his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk, immediately pulling another from the pack and sticking it between his lips. "You have no idea do you?"  
  
The flicker of fire from his lighter reflects on his face, casting a shadow up along his features, reminding me of kids sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories with a flashlight held beneath their chins. "About what?"  
  
"You're so dense," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Kageyama you're the most talented musician I've ever met, and I've met some great musicians. You write from your soul and you're damn good at it."  
  
He takes another drag of the cigarette and I take the opportunity to speak but he lifts a hand to silence me. "I'm not done. You've got so much ahead of you, so much time to show the world your gifts. You're better than this place, kid, and I'll be damned if I see you end up stuck here pushing papers behind a desk all day and smoking yourself into an early grave, wishing you'd tried harder when you had the chance."  
  
I think he's talking to himself more than he's talking to me, and I want to say something to comfort him (even though I know I'm completely awful at that), but he smiles, reaching over the desktop to punch me lightly on the shoulder. "So you're going to this audition, okay? And if you don't I'll fire you for being a fucking idiot. Got it?"  
  
"Got it," I answer, and he smiles wider.   
  
"You should probably prepare something new to present. You only have a few weeks though so you'll have to work fast. Whatever your inspiration was for those last couple pieces you wrote worked really well for you so I'd suggest using it again." He snuffs out his cigarette and stands, moving towards the door and holding it open.   
  
"That shouldn't be a problem," I say, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest as I stand and make my way out of the office. I stop just outside the door, turning back to Ukai. "Thanks, boss."  
  
"Don't mention it, kid. Make me proud."  
  
I nod and turn, heading toward the entrance as my heart pounds against my ribs. Those are the words my father said to me the day he bought me my first guitar, the goal I've been trying to accomplish for the past sixteen years. I've already failed that request once, but maybe, just maybe, I can do it this time. Fear is replaced by heavy determination, filling me with pride and a desperation for accomplishment that I've never felt before.   
  
'Make me proud.'  
  
Just watch me, dad. Just watch me.   
  
***  
  
It's somewhere between two consecutive bowls of cereal being tipped over on the coffee table all over my new music sheets and crayon drawings extending from their intended scraps of paper onto the walls of my hallway that I realize I need help.   
  
Oikawa's older sister dropped Takeru off this morning begging for us to babysit since her sitter caught the flu, but Oikawa had some important appointment he couldn't miss so I was left with one extremely rambunctious seven year old and an apartment filled with things just waiting to be destroyed. I put down the washcloth I'm using to scrub crayon off of the wall, having made absolutely zero progress, and pull out my phone to type out a quick distress call.   
  
**To: Hinata:  
Have any babysitting experience?**  
  
Somewhere behind me a breakable object of some sort crashes to the ground. I let out a deep groan, standing to go make sure Takeru is uninjured and silently hoping it was one of Oikawa's alien figurines that were broken.   
  
"Takeru?" I peer into the living room, finding the boy standing next to a knocked over lamp, eyes wide with fear.   
  
"I'm sorry Uncle Tobio! I didn't mean to!" He looks on the verge of tears, arms pulled tightly across his chest as he bites his bottom lip. I can't help but laugh.   
  
"Don't worry about it buddy. Here, let's get you away from the glass so I can clean it up," I tell him, reaching out to lift him up and placing him on the sofa behind me. "Just watch some cartoons for a while, okay?"  
  
He nods, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes to catch the unshed tears, turning away from me to check up on the happenings in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The attention span of a child will never cease to amaze me.   
  
After the glass is all swept up and put in the trash I remember the text I sent, picking up my phone from where I left it on the floor and sliding my thumb across the screen to see Hinata's response.   
  
**From: Hinata  
Not really. Planning on having a baby?**  
  
Me with a baby? Dear god, no. That's a recipe for disaster. Something like a goldfish is much more my speed. I shake my head, clearing away the thought of a small dark haired baby glaring at Oikawa before responding.   
  
**To: Hinata  
I'm babysitting Oikawa's nephew and I'm going insane. Wanna give me a hand?**  
  
I turn back to the living room, keeping a close eye on the open glass of juice clutched between Takeru's hands, and after a few minutes there's a small knock at the front door, followed by Hinata's soft footsteps through the front hallway.   
  
"Oh thank god," I sigh, deflating at the sight of the tiny ginger godsend, "Takeru, this is my friend Hinata. He's going to hang out with is for a while, okay?" I snap to grab the boy's attention, making sure he heard me over Mickey Mouse.   
  
"Wow! You're Uncle Tobio's friend? You must be really cool!" Takeru stands on the sofa, turning around to jump up and down while clutching the back panel, oddly reminding me of Hinata himself.   
  
Hinata giggles, smiling brightly over at Takeru. They seem to be getting along already.   
  
"Nice to meet you Takeru!" The boy stares at Hinata's hands like they're some foreign object, his little pink lips forming a curious 'o'.   
  
"He says it's nice to meet you," I translate, kneeling down in front of Takeru so I can make sure he pays attention to what I tell him. "Hinata can't hear so he uses his hands to talk to us," I explain.   
  
"You can make words with your hands?" He peers around my shoulder, looking up to Hinata with eyes full of curiosity. Hinata nods in answer, and Takeru breaks out into the biggest smile I've ever seen, starting to bounce up and down again. "Wow! You're so cool Uncle Hinata!"   
  
Takeru bounces around with Hinata for a while, running in circles around him and begging to be taught certain phrases in sign language. His abundant energy doesn't even seem to make a dent on Hinata's enthusiasm, but I start to feel myself sag a bit just watching them, mental exhaustion creeping up on me.   
  
For someone who claimed to have no babysitting experience Hinata is a natural, taking care to make sure Takeru is having fun while also keeping him from getting too fired up. He kneels down to interact with him face to face, making sure the boy feels paid attention to, treating him like a young person instead of just a child like people usually do to kids his age. It's kind of adorable, the way they interact with each other, and my mind starts to wander to thoughts of Hinata raising his own children, which leads to thoughts I'm not even going to admit to having because my _god_ what is wrong with me? You'd think I was some silly schoolgirl doodling her crush's name in her notebook and planning her future wedding instead a grown ass man.   
  
It's not until a new episode of Mickey Mouse catches Takeru's attention again that Hinata finally turns toward me, surveying the apartment with a raised ginger eyebrow. "This place is thrashed," he signs, a smirk at the corners of his lips, "and I mean more that it usually is."  
  
"I didn't know how much damage one kid could do," I sigh, deflating a bit under my chance to finally breathe.   
  
"Want some help cleaning up?"  
  
I shake my head, pointing over to the sofa with my thumb. "Can you just keep an eye on him for a minute? I'm gonna make some lunch and last time I left him alone the lamp got broken."  
  
"No problem," he nods, smiling before heading over to Takeru were the boy immediately launches into an explanation about his cartoons. Having someone listening to him so intently makes Takeru's eyes light up, and I push down that primitive part of myself that is finds being good with children incredibly attractive.   
  
Cleaning up the kitchen and slapping a few sandwiches helps to clear my head, and by the time I make it back to the living room, plates balanced precariously on my arms, I hope to present myself to Hinata as a normal friend instead of 'the guy who's ridiculously in love with you'. I find the two of them bent over the coffee table, a pack of crayons from Takeru's backpack spilling across the table as they both scribble diligently on some scraps of paper. The way they look when they concentrate is so similar you'd think they were related, brows furrowed with identical creases on the bridge of their noses, lips slightly pouted in the same way; they even stop to push the hair out of their eyes at the same time. Art begets art, because I can feel a melody start to sing inside my chest.   
  
They both jump when I set the plates of sandwiches on the table, breaking their concentration, and I laugh a bit to myself. "Lunch time."  
  
"Look at my picture, Uncle Tobio!" Takeru lifts up his paper, four stick figures spread out across the white space. "This one is you, and then there's Uncle Tooru and me, and then Uncle Hinata," he explains, pointing out each figure as he names them. They all have u-shaped smiles but mine, but at least a flat line is better than a frown.   
  
"That's very good," I say, rubbing his head and handing him a lunch plate before turning to Hinata. "And what did you draw?" I sit cross legged on the floor next to them, my long legs making my knees almost touch with Hinata's, and I can feel warmth through the two layers of fabric separating our skin. He hesitates for a second before pushing his paper towards me across the table top, and I swear his cheeks flush just a bit. The doodle is incredible, as expected; a field of sunflowers spreading out to the horizon, with a single figure walking out towards the sunset, one arm stretched to the side, grasping at an empty space. The soft black crayon lines are beautiful enough alone without worrying about the array of colors they contain.   
  
"It's not done," he signs, eyes trained on the table, shyness foreign on his features.   
  
"It's pretty good," I tell him, before returning it and handing him a plate of food, hands brushing in the exchange. He doesn't meet my eyes, and I worry about what might be bothering him. Am I too close? Am I getting too nonchalant about casual intimacy? Does he suspect my feelings for him? Is he disturbed by it? Oh god.   
  
I stomp those thoughts away as best I can, shoving them back down my throat the way they climbed with bites of sandwich, swallowing hard and hoping that Takeru can't hear how loud my heart beats against my ribs.   
  
After lunch Takeru's eyes start to droop, and he pulls a blanket from the backpack his mom sent over before curling up on the floor with his head on Hinata's thigh. "Tell me a story Uncle Tobio," he says, his voice slurred with sleepiness as he covers his mouth to yawn.   
  
"I don't know any kids' stories," I answer, stacking the empty plates together on the table.   
  
"C'mon, you've got to know at least one," Hinata signs, making sure that moving his arms doesn’t jostle Takeru's head too much. All traces of his previous shyness are gone, replaced by even more confusion on my end.   
  
"I, uh, I guess I know one," I stutter, looking down and rubbing the back of my neck. The memories of early snowy days flood back to my mind, bittersweet and distant, as if they don't even happen in this lifetime but instead in some faraway timeline that I never really lived. "I don't know if you'll like it though."  
  
"I'll like it, Uncle Tobio," Takeru tells me from beneath his blanket, "I promise." Hinata nods in agreement, urging me on with a gentle smile.   
  
I let out a sigh before beginning. "Uncle Koushi told me this one, actually. It's about the bird that fell in love with the sun.   
  
"Sounds kinda icky."  
  
"Just listen," I chuckle, "it's a good story. So, once upon a time there was a bird, and every morning he would wake at dawn to sing at the sunrise...,"  
  
I tell the entire story, how the bird flew up and up until his body burned away and the sun caught his falling ashes; how his ashes were scattered to the sky to create the stars, occupying the same sky as his love but never truly touching. I'm not nearly as eloquent as Suga, but I get the point across as best I can.   
  
I get lost in my own retelling, remembering everything I'd repressed from before. It doesn't hurt to remember anymore, instead it feels nice knowing that I've moved so far away from the person I was just over a month ago.   
  
Takeru is asleep by the time I finish, long dark lashes brushing against his cherub cheeks, but Hinata is wide awake. He hung on to my every word, and I have to wonder if he sees a deeper meaning to my words the way I do. I said once before that I was the bird and he was the sun, but I never really knew how true those words were.   
  
I've been burning alive every day since I met him, and I can't wait for the moment I finally turn to ashes.   
  
***  
  
There are only three things in this world that I hate. One, mosquitoes, because honestly what the fuck is their purpose other than making people miserable and itchy? Second, when stickers leave that gross little residue behind on things when you rip them off and then you can't get it completely clean and it accumulates dust and looks disgusting. And third, buffets. They're filled with crying children and sneeze guarded salad bars full of wilted lettuce and community crocks of salad dressing left in the open air for hours.   
  
They're breeding grounds for human depravity and if it was left up to me I'd never enter one again in my adult life. But it's not up to me, and here I am, sitting in a party sized booth at a buffet restaurant, the safe and clean outside air beckoning me though the plate glass windows, mocking my imprisonment.    
  
"Kageyama? Are you ok?" Suga waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention away from the exit that I would give anything to be walking through right now. "You've been staring out the window for the past ten minutes."  
  
"Yeah I'm fine," I answer, looking around the table at the rest of our group who all seem either concerned or amused at my zoning out. "Just thinking." Thinking about how to escape this den of bacteria and cross contaminated deli salads.   
  
I woke up this morning to a group text from Suga asking everyone to meet him and Daichi for lunch this afternoon. Along with it  came a dozen replies from Kuroo and Bokuto asking if anyone thought they could pass as thirteen year olds to get the kids admission price, to which Kenma replied "only if they count mental age". God I love that guy.   
  
So that's how I ended up here, sandwiched between Hinata and Oikawa, who skillfully spreads blueberry syrup over a stack of pancakes to make little star and heart shapes all over them. Daichi eyes Hinata with concern as he shoves sprinkle laden chocolate soft serve into his mouth, probably not wanting to be there when the sugar high kicks in. Natsu and Kenma watch silently as Kuroo and Bokuto start their third plates of pasta, having challenged each other to an eating contest, neither wanting to back down even though it's clear they're both at their limit.   
  
"So what are we here for, Suga?" I spin my spoon around my half empty bowl of chicken soup as I ask, the only acceptable food I found in the entire restaurant.   
  
"Oh, um...well," he blushes, turning to look up at Daichi who squeezes his hand on top of the table. Everyone around the table shuts up, forgetting whatever they were doing and leaning forward.   
  
"We have some good news," Daichi continues, commanding everyone's attention in that authoritative voice he has. "We're getting married."  
  
Silence. We all just look around the table at each other, wide eyed and blinking. And then everyone laughs.   
  
"What's so funny!?" Suga looks so surprised I actually feel a little bad.  
  
"You're _already_ married," Kuroo smirks, stuffing another bite of pasta in his mouth and side eyeing Bokuto.   
  
"But this is for real," Daichi says, blushing slightly at the thought of his drunken fake wedding.   
  
"Are you saying that the beautiful ceremony performed on our roof wasn't real?" Bokuto places a hand over his chest, pretending to be offended.   
  
"Yes. That's exactly what we're saying."  
  
"You boys be nice," Natsu chides, sending a warning glare in Kuroo and Bokuto's direction, who return to their pasta bowls. "I think it's great you guys. Congratulations! Oh, and if you need it our uncle can do the flowers for you," she offers, looking over at Hinata who nods vigorously, the sugar rush starting to set in.   
  
"Thank you Natsu, that would be lovely," Suga answers, looking relieved that someone is actually taking this seriously.   
  
"My mom can help with the tux rentals and stuff," Oikawa chimes in, "her boutique is full of wedding stuff. She's obsessed."  
  
"I don't think we'll need tuxes or anything," Daichi says, holding a hand up as a way to sort of calm the conversation. "It's just going to be something small and casual."  
  
"Ooh we should all dress super fancy," Natsu says, clapping her hands together and eyes lighting up. "We'll make it a black tie gala!"  
  
"That wasn't really-"  
  
"Suga pleeeeease," Oikawa begs, "that sounds like so much fun."  
  
Natsu and Oikawa both lean over the table, grabbing Suga and Daichi's hands as they plead, flashing their most winning smiles. Hinata starts to bounce in his seat, signing frantically in agreement with his sister's idea. His buzzing catches Kuroo and Bokuto's attention away from their eating contest and they join in the argument.   
  
"It won't even be expensive," Oikawa adds, finding as many ways as possible to keep Suga from saying no. "We can all rent from the boutique and it'll be practically free."  
  
"Does your mom have those cool powder blue suits with the frilly white shirts?" Bokuto asks, pretending to slick his hair back with a licked palm.   
  
"Bo those haven't been cool since the 80's," Kuroo laughs, "it's all about zoot suits."  
  
"Sorry, my mom only carries _good_ clothes," Oikawa tells them, eyebrows raised in shock over the atrocious fashion suggestions he's hearing.   
  
"Can I wear a top hat?" Hinata's eyes are wide, either from the ice cream or the conversation I can't tell, and his hands move so fast I barely catch the movement in my peripheral vision.   
  
"Yeah! And I want a ball gown and one of those fancy clove cigarette holders," Natsu chimes, nodding at her brother across the table.   
  
"Tail coats are kinda cool," Kenma mumbles, causing Kuroo and Bokuto's excitement levels to explode.   
  
"Looks like we don't really have a choice," Suga says, turning to Daichi with a heavy sigh. They never stood a chance.   
  
"Congratulations you guys," I call across the table to Suga and Daichi, raising my voice enough to travel through the conversation to our side. "This is going to be a disaster."  
  
***  
  
I wake the morning of the audition hours before I would normally, the sky outside still dark with just the hint of sunlight peeking on the horizon. The birds aren't singing yet, and the air feels still like time itself is still sleeping, not yet ready to move its hands forward and start the day. Despite the calm there's a jitteriness in my bones and a flutter in my lungs that is all too familiar.   
  
I felt this way the first time I showed a song I wrote to my parents, the first time I ever performed in a school band concert, the first time I showed my original work to a teacher. The first time I talked to Hinata.   
  
It's not a bad feeling. Its anticipation and fear, but it's also an urge to do well. A desperate want to succeed, to fight for a dream I almost lost sight of. A readiness, a willingness, a _drive_ that I've been needing so badly.   
  
I lie in bed for a while, nowhere near sleep but not quite ready to get out of bed. I watch the sun rise, waiting for it to reach high above the horizon before letting my feet hit the floor. Oikawa is still asleep on the futon he set up in the corner of my room, somehow still looking put together  even in deep sleep, hair splayed perfectly on his pillow instead of in some disheveled cowlick like mine always ends up.   
  
I shower and grab a bowl of cereal before checking the time; just over three hours before I have to leave. The tingling in my limbs get worse as I wait, the hot shower water having done nothing to loosen my muscles, and I think I'll go insane before even leaving the apartment.   
  
My new song sits on my desk, barely finished a few nights ago, and I haven't had a chance to have anyone check it out. I don't want to go into this blind (or maybe I just need an excuse for human interaction), and so, with trembling hands I pull out my phone. I mean to text Suga, but my fingers have a different idea.   
  
**To: Hinata  
Sorry, I know it's early, but think you can do me a favor?**  
  
I don't expect a reply, figuring he's still asleep just like the rest of the world this early on a Saturday, but much to my surprise, a reply comes minutes later.   
**  
From: Hinata  
Sure! Want me to come over?**  
  
Where his boundless energy comes from is a mystery to me.   
**  
To: Hinata  
Yeah**  
  
I count, one, two, three heartbeats before his knock sounds at my door, followed by the opening and closing of the door as he makes his way to the living room. He must have not been up very long because half of his hair sticks up in one big spike, reminiscent of Kuroo.   
  
"What's up?"   
  
Resisting the urge to reach out and brush down his orange curls with my fingertips, imagining just how soft they'd be, I hand him the flyer from Yamaguchi. His eyes light up as he reads it, all of the excitement missing from my face filling up his.   
  
"This is today," he signs, pointing at the date in bold letters. I nod, motioning for him to follow me over to the desk where my laptop sits, my new song already loaded and connected to the speaker.   
  
"Can you check this out for me? I haven't had a chance to show it to anyone and I don't want to take something in that's garbage." He smiles lightly at the way I move my hands, probably seeing the progress I've made in my lessons over the last few months. I wonder if he knows it was all for him.   
  
He nods, bouncing his hair up and down with each movement, and plants himself on the ground next to the speaker. I press play, adjusting the volume just loud enough for him to feel it but not enough to wake Oikawa in the next room.   
  
The music seems to physically move through him, flowing from the tips of his fingers all the way through the rest of his body, his muscles tensing and loosening with the beat. He doesn't speak, doesn't even look in my direction for the duration of the song, completely focused on the vibrations in his palm.   
  
This is the reason music exists; so that I can watch him feel it. His eyes closed as he concentrates, face serene and soft, my notes swirling around his head in a nearly tangible way; this is the meaning of life.   
  
He doesn't turn to me immediately after the song ends, sitting silently for a few minutes after drawing his hand away from the speaker. His brown eyes are warm when he speaks, smiling softly as he forms the words. "I think you'll do great with that. You've got nothing to worry about."  
  
It's not much, and to most people those words would mean next to nothing, but to me they are the world. To me, they are the confidence I need. Hinata is my strength, and as pathetic and weak as it may sound, I need him.  
  
I thank him, and he heads home shortly after, claiming that I need time to finish getting ready before it's time to go. My jitters are still there, making my blood buzz in my veins, but now it's accompanied by the flutter of my heart and a heat on my cheeks that tells me I've already impressed the person who matters the most.   
  
***  
  
Inadequate. That's the word that flashes over and over in my mind when I arrive to the concert hall downtown where the auditions are being held. The second I set foot on the carpeted aisles inside, running my hand along one of the plush velvet seats, I know I don't belong here.   
  
A section of seats are filled with musicians, all waiting for their names and numbers to be called so they can go before the panel of talent scouts sat just in front of the stage. Everyone has their instruments set up onstage already, waiting for them to take their place and play their piece, gorgeous cellos and pianos, woodwinds gleaming beneath the stage lights like stars. My beat up old guitar feels like lead in my hands, nowhere near the caliber of what's presented before me.   
  
Yamaguchi turns around from his seat up front, waving silently with a blinding smile before turning back to his work. I take a number and slump down in a seat in the back, the velvet against my back foreign and mocking.   
  
When the first number is called I realize I'm severely underdressed. The woman who walks onstage is elegant, her pencil skirt pristine and her hair pulled back in a twist, just about the same shape as my stomach. Apparently everyone has done the same, silk blouses and suit jackets facing me from all directions, the fabric of my sweater constricting around my neck and burning against my skin. I must look like a bum to these people; like the guy who plays Wonderwall on the street corners collecting spare change in an empty guitar case.   
  
And that's not even the worst of it. The woman takes a seat behind a cello, squeezing the mahogany wood between her knees as she sets the bow across the strings, letting the deep sound fill the room and bless our ears. It reverberates off of the walls and straight into my heart. I've never believed in miracles but I imagine this is what they feel like.   
  
It continues that way, musician after musician filing up to the stage and playing their pieces, spreading their art across the canvas that is the space of sound surrounding us, until there is only a handful left before me. It's like the countdown on a bomb clock, ticking down the seconds to my demise, suffocating me with every passing moment, all the while chanting that word over and over in my mind. Inadequate. Inadequate. _Inadequate_.  
  
My breathing starts to shallow, my heart racing, my hands shaking, and I'm afraid I'm going to collapse. Before I know what I'm doing I stand, my unsteady legs carrying me out of the building while my mind screams for them to stop, shouting all of the things I _should_ be doing.   
  
Don't do this. Don't fuck this up. Go back. Be brave. _Make dad proud._  
  
I can't. I can't stop the constricting in my chest and I can't stop the hitching in my throat. I'm not different. I haven't grown. Everything that people have seen in me lately is a lie, to them and to myself. I'm the same scared little boy I always have been. I'm burning, and I'm falling, but there are no stars in sight.   
  
Fresh air hits my lungs and the stone wall of the concert hall hits my back as I slump to the concrete, drawing my knees to my chest and shoving my head between them. It's all I can do to focus my energy of trying to even my breathing.   
  
Out and in. Out and in. Out and in. I remember the rhythm to calm myself down as if I had needed it yesterday even though I haven't used it in years. Out and in, until the shaking starts to slow.   
  
The physical panic fades slowly, but the mental part stays planted firmly in its place. I want to push it away; to stand and reenter the building and play my piece like everyone else, but I can't. I can't stand there in front of them all, in front of all of that concentrated raw talent and tough scrutiny in my simple sweater and sixteen year old guitar. I'm not brave enough to try.   
  
So instead, I pull out my phone, sliding my fingers across the surface to distract myself from the situation. I never went to have the screen fixed, the spider web of fractured glass still decorating the corner from when I threw it at my closet door. I swipe aimlessly, switching between pages of apps before noticing the red circle appear above my messages signaling a new text.   
  
**From: Hinata  
Oh I forgot to tell you; good luck! Not that you need it, I know you're going to do great!!  
**  
It's like the world stopped turning, ceasing it's spinning to let these words sink into my skin. I can feel every beat of my pulse, every drop of blood flowing through my veins. I have never been so aware of my own existence.   
  
_He believes in me._  
  
I knew he did, he'd told me before that he liked my music; that I was talented. But this is so much different. It's like he _knew_. He knew the one thing that I needed to hear right at this moment. It might sound ridiculous but it seems as if our hearts are connected on some level, platonic or otherwise, our fates intertwined and weaving the tapestry of our lives. These words were the only thing that could save me right now, and he sent them.   
  
I reread the text a few times, letting it fill me with a sense of courage I didn't know I possessed, and walk back into the concert hall, entering just as a man finishes his piece on the flute, thanking the scouts before stepping down and returning to his seat. And then they call my name, and I grab my guitar before making my way up the stairs and into the spotlight, all happening so fast that I don't have a chance to back out again.   
  
It's a weird feeling being on the stage, like being behind the scenes of some grand spectacle, almost as if you shouldn't be there and someone will be along to shoo you away at any moment. The lights are hot and bright, making everything else in the room impossible to see.   
  
A voice tells me to start when I'm ready, and I take a deep breath before positioning my fingers on the strings.   
  
I play the hardest I've ever played in my life, pouring every ounce of my soul into my fingers and out in the form of melodies. I don't know if the scouts are impressed, and I don't really care, because I'm not playing for them. As I look up into the blinding stage lights, radiating heat like the sun, I pretend that Hinata is my only audience, one bright speck among the sea of empty seats.   
  
And maybe he can't hear me, maybe he'll never know exactly how my songs sound or understand the way I feel. But I'll play for him anyway, because in the end I believe that our hearts beat on the same frequency, and our souls sing the same tune. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview for next chapter: let's just say things get a bit more interesting ;)


	10. Ambrosia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what again!!! The amazing Ainu did some more fanart for this fic!! It's perfect and you can go check it out right [here!](http://ainu.tumblr.com/post/132336122838/im-in-love-with-deaf-hinata-aus-i-specially-love) I can't even tell you how much I love it <33
> 
> You're the only one I ever believed in  
> The answer that could never be found  
> The moment you decided to let love in  
> Now I'm banging on the door of an angel  
> The end of fear is where we begin  
> The moment we decided to let love in
> 
> -Goo Goo Dolls

Love is a plague. It's a curse, a disease, and I am so infected. It's in my bones, taking over my limbs until I have to force my arm not to reach out and caress soft pale skin. It's in my brain, jumbling up my thoughts and making me imagine things I don't want to admit. It's on my tongue, pushing against the backs of my teeth and trying to force out words I want so badly to say. It's even in my blood, carrying these feelings through my veins and beating in each chamber of my heart, so strong I can feel every cell as the sickness spreads. My body is consumed and so far I haven't found a cure.   
  
But today it's in a new place. A more...primal place, as Hinata steps out from behind a curtain in Oikawa's mother's boutique. Excitement radiates off his face as he spins around, showing off the dark waistcoat and black suit pants he was given to try on. It took Oikawa's mom, Mrs. Aya she had asked us to call her, over an hour to find slacks small enough for Hinata, but she somehow found a pair that fit perfectly. Maybe a little too perfectly, as the twinge deep in my gut would suggest.   
  
"Oh that looks lovely sweetheart," Mrs. Aya gushes as she comes around the corner, clothes piled high on one arm. Hinata spins again as she pulls at his sleeves and adjusts the buttons on his waistcoat, giggling when she smiles and pats his cheek. "I knew we had something around here that would work. And I won't even have to hem them!"  
  
Something bumps my shoulder, pulling my eyes begrudgingly away from Hinata's exposed collarbones under the undone top buttons of his dress shirt to find Oikawa's smirking face inches from my own. "Might want to make sure your slacks are pretty tight before the wedding," he winks, "you don't want to show off _just_ how much you like Hinata's outfit to the whole reception."  
  
My face flares up immediately and I drop my eyes down to my lap where I definitely do not have a boner (even though I do admit that Hinata looks really _really_ good in that waistcoat). "I don't know what you're talking about," I growl.   
  
"You're practically salivating," he continues, dropping down onto the plush chair beside me. " I didn't know you have a suit kink."  
  
"Oikawa I swear to-,"  
  
"Boooooys," Mrs. Aya calls, causing both of our heads to snap up in answer. "You're friend is trying to talk to you." She has one perfect blonde eyebrow raised in the exact way her son always does, and that knowing look in her eyes that I've grown used to seeing on the face of anyone who's spent more than five minutes in a room with me.   
  
"How do I look?" Hinata signs, showing off his now buttoned shirt and the bow tie he's added to the ensemble. I can feel Oikawa eyeing me from the side as I let my gaze linger.   
  
"It looks great," he chimes, taking a step forward before my silence can start to turn awkward. "Let me just fix something really quick." Oikawa starts to unbutton Hinata's sleeves, fiddling with them until they're folded perfectly up to his elbows, and I start to believe that God is real.   
  
"There you go. Perfect," Oikawa proclaims, spinning Hinata around to face me, winking at me from behind his head. My urge to punch Oikawa in his smug face is only eclipsed by the sheer _beauty_ standing before me.   
  
"You, uh, you look really good," I mumble, pulling at the collar of my shirt and trying to look anywhere except Hinata's lightly blushing face but unable to tear my gaze away.   
  
Good? No. Good is nowhere near the right word. But neither is something like gorgeous, cute, or tantalizing. He is _radiant_ , and I am but a small bird in his garden of sunlight.   
  
"Here honey," Mrs. Aya smiles, handing Hinata a garment bag, "hang everything back up and put it in here so you can take it with you."  
  
He takes the bag, nodding and glancing back at me with those big brown eyes before slipping back into the dressing room. "Where'd Suga go?" I ask, either trying to change the subject or to distract myself I'm unsure.   
  
"Oh he's still trying some things on," Mrs. Aya answers, smiling at me sweetly. "He took at least a dozen suits in the dressing room with him. I think he's still trying to choose between a black or a white jacket, the poor thing." She presses one palm to her heart, pouting out her bottom lip at the thought.   
  
Suga has been a bundle of nerves ever since a few nights after he and Daichi announced the wedding. Apparently Daichi had called his parents to let them know when and where the ceremony would be, and his mother had mentioned being excited to finally meet Suga's parents. He told me during last week’s pizza night that he had almost sent them an invitation, overcome with guilt that he wasn't going to tell his own parents he was getting married, which is utter bullshit. He agreed with me when I told him that, but he's still been a bit on edge. I swear his innate need to make sure everyone is happy at all times is going to be the end of him.   
  
To avoid the "curse" or whatever it is of seeing each other's suits before the wedding, they decided to come to the boutique on different days. Today Oikawa, Hinata and I came with Suga, and tomorrow Daichi will come in with Bokuto, Kuroo, Kenma, and Natsu. I should probably apologize to Mrs. Aya in advance for whatever happens while they're here.   
  
"I'm going to go check on him," I say, turning away from Oikawa and his mom and striding over to the set of dressing rooms on the other side of the boutique where Suga is.   
  
I knock lightly on the side of the dressing room, barely loud enough to be heard over the frantic rustling behind the curtain. "You okay in there?"  
  
The curtain flies open and Suga's flushed face appears in front of me. "Oh thank goodness," he sighs, grabbing my arm and pulling me over to his pile of haphazard clothes. "I can't decide on a suit color. Could you help me out?"  
  
"Suga I-,"  
  
"This white one is nice but I think the lapels are a bit too thick, and I like this black one but it makes me look too pale. Then there's this navy blue one and dark gray one but they seem more like business suits than wedding attire." He speaks a mile a minute, gesturing wildly at jackets he pulls from the pile, holding them out for me to examine.   
  
"Suga you're asking the absolute worst person on this," I interject before he can take a breath and launch into another spiel about slacks or something. "I can't even tell the difference between the blue and black one honestly."  
  
"Oh my god I'm so sorry. I totally forgot," he cries, dropping his head in his hands with a defeated sort of huff. "I don't know what's gotten into me."  
  
"You're too worked up about everything," I say, sitting the jackets back on top of his pile as neatly as I can, hoping Mrs. Aya won't come over and see the mess. "You've got to calm down a little bit. Everything's going to be fine."  
  
"I guess," he sighs, running his slender fingers through his starlight hair. "I think I'm just really nervous about Daichi's parents liking me."  
  
"You've already met them and they loved you."  
  
"Yeah but," he looks up at me, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as tears start to form on his bottom lashes. "What if they stop liking me? I mean, my _own_ parents don't even like me, why would they want someone like that for their son?"  
  
I'm taken aback for a moment, wondering if he's being serious or if this is some elaborate joke. "Suga you're a goddamned idiot."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you think that your parents' bullshit opinions of you have anything to do with how much other people love you then you're an idiot." He seems surprised, his eyes wide and his unshed tears hanging precariously on his lashes. I wonder if my words are too harsh, but I don't stop. "People aren't going to judge you on the opinions of others, Suga. They're going to love you for you. For sweet, selfless you. And if they don't, then fuck them. You've got Daichi, you've got me, Oikawa, and everyone else, and that's what matters."  
  
"Kageyama I-,"  
  
"I like this one the best, by the way," I interject, holding up a white suit jacket with black lapels, cutting him off before he can make this conversation sappier than I already have.   
  
"Me too," he smiles, taking it from me and pulling me into a quick hug. He doesn't say anything, just gives me a soft squeeze before letting go, his familiar heartbeat against my shoulder speaking for him. "Want to help me hang all of this back up? Mrs. Aya is going to have my head."  
  
Between keeping Suga from having a meltdown at any given moment, keeping Dumb and Dumber from causing too much mayhem, and Hinata wearing the most attractive outfit ever put together, I think this wedding is going to be one of the most stressful days of my life.   
  
***  
  
After hours of setting up vases of white lilies on tables and calling the caterer a dozen times, protecting the cake from Bokuto and setting up rows upon rows of chairs, all while keeping my mind focused away from size extra small waistcoats, I finally catch a moment to sit down. It's in one of the side rooms of the event hall we rented for the day, where Suga stands in front of a mirror adjusting the rose pinned to his lapel for the fiftieth time.   
  
"How does it look?" He turns to me, sticking both arms out and turning slightly to each side. The white and black jacket we picked out was a really great choice, not too bright yet perfect for his pale complexion.   
  
"Straighter than you," I smirk, earning a mock smile from Suga.   
  
"Very funny," he sneers, with an undertone of amusement. "Have you seen Daichi?"  
  
"Yeah he was out front last time I saw him. Waiting for his parents I think." I lean back in the chair and yawn, exhausted even though the ceremony hasn't even started yet.   
  
There's a soft knock at the door, and Suga goes to open it, stopping only when a voice comes from the other side. "Babe? You in there?"  
  
"Daichi? What are you doing?" He puts one hand against the door, leaning in so he can hear through the wood. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready to go on?"  
  
"I wanted to see you before it starts," he answers, earning a soft smile from Suga that he can't see.   
  
"Nope. It's bad luck. You'll see me at the altar."  
  
"That's only when a bride is involved," he counters, making an excellent point. "I don't even believe in superstitions! Come on, babe. Let me in."  
  
"You believed in them last week when you wouldn't let us go to the boutique at the same time," Suga laughs, leaning his forehead against the doorframe.   
  
"I'll let you see mine too. It's a win win situation."  
  
"Nice try sweetheart, but _I_ have some patience. It's not gonna happen." I can see it on Suga's face, and hear it in Daichi's voice; the amount of love that is shared between them is infectious. It makes my heart swell a bit, just seeing what kind of life exists for people who love each other _so much_. I want to believe that something similar could be in store for me, just waiting to be set in motion.   
  
"Alright fine," Daichi huffs, his voice getting a little huskier and harder to hear through the door. "But what if I let you-,"  
  
"Daichi," Suga interrupts, a warning tone on the edge of his tongue, "Kageyama is in here too, you know."  
  
Daichi coughs on the other side of the door, realizing that I can hear their entire conversation. "Oh, uh, I'm gonna go talk to my brother before the ceremony starts." I can practically hear the blush in his voice. "I love you," he adds.   
  
"Love you too, baby," Suga answers, and I turn away, letting them have their moment. "See you in a bit."  
  
He stands there at the door for a few minutes, hand still on the knob and a faraway look to his eyes. Maybe it's finally sinking in, the fact that he's marrying the love of his life in less than an hour. I wonder if it feels real? Or like some big cosmic fairytale.   
  
"That reminds me!" Suga claps his hands together, turning to me with a new excitement in his eyes. "Do you have your toast ready?"  
  
"My what?"  
  
"Kageyama! Your toast!" He looks at me as if I just proposed we assassinate the president or something. "Your best man toast? You did write one right?"  
  
"Shit, Suga I totally forgot," I admit, running my hand against the back of my neck. "Is Daichi's best man doing one? Who is it anyway?"  
  
"His older brother, Hisao. And yes, you were both supposed to do one," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always does when I worry him.   
  
Don't worry about it," I say, standing and patting him on the shoulder, "I'll figure something out. It'll be fine."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive," I answer, hoping to lessen the stress I can see forming between his eyebrows. I'm not positive, and forty five minutes is definitely not long enough to figure something out, but for Suga I'll do anything.   
  
***  
  
Watching the wedding ceremony makes me wonder if Suga and Daichi ever get tired of being so goddamn _unbearably_ perfect. I mean, honestly, it's like they were specifically created to find each other and make everyone else around them look bad. I don't even consider myself a romantic, but as Daichi's mom dabs at her eyes and Bokuto sobs onto Kuroo's shoulder I feel myself tear up because damnit they love each other so much.   
  
Hinata sits two rows from the front and on the opposite side of the aisle from where I stand off to Suga's side, and I find my eyes drifting over towards him as the ceremony goes on, trailing up his jaw line and along the bridge of his nose. I trace his profile in my mind, the sheer beauty adding to the atmosphere around me. I have to keep reminding myself that my attention belongs at the altar. My mind skips around, constantly switching between the wedding and Hinata.   
  
Daichi's niece skips down the aisle, tossing flower petals behind her. Hinata's smile is crooked and bright as he watches Suga and Daichi grab hands. The minister gives his spiel which I only half listen to. Hinata's Adam's apple bobs up and down above his shirt collar. Takeru brings the rings, looking ecstatic in his tiny tuxedo. Hinata has the cutest button nose. Suga smiles as he slips a silver band on Daichi's finger. Hinata's hair curls in perfect little swirls around his ears. Daichi tears up as he puts an identical band on Suga's hand. Hinata's legs dangle from the edge of his chair, the tips of his dress shoes barely touching the ground. The minister tells the grooms they can kiss and everyone applauds. Hinata turns slightly, his eyes meeting mine.   
  
It takes me a moment to realize what's happening; that while everyone cries and cheers as Daichi dips Suga at the altar, Hinata and I lock eyes, his cheeks darkening but not looking away. Time drags by, hours passing in the span of a second, and I'm the one that breaks it, my face burning like never before.   
  
I stare forward, burning holes in the windows across from me until Suga and Daichi head back down the aisle hand in hand; Daichi's brother, his niece, Takeru, and I following close behind. Everything happens so fast but my brain moves like molasses.   
  
The reception gives me the cover I need to avoid Hinata, not sure if I can face him yet. I hover around making light conversation with whomever I run into, seeming to surprise most of them with my sudden sociability. I catch sight of Hinata hanging around Bokuto and Kuroo who catch sight of me and start to head my way. Panicking, I turning towards whoever is closest to me, which just happens to be Oikawa and an older woman.   
  
"Hey," I start, breathless and hoping that they won't come over if they see I'm talking to someone. "What's up?"  
  
"Oh hey, Tobio," Oikawa answers, a confused look in his eyes as he looks over my shoulder and back to me, thankfully deciding not to ask. "This is my mom. Mom, this is Tobio. I've been staying with him since Daichi moved in with Suga."  
  
"Nice to meet you sweetheart! I'm Hana. Thank you so much for letting Tooru stay with you, I hope he hasn't been causing you any trouble," the woman smiles sweetly, reaching out to shake my hand. I take it, her palm warm and roughly worn like I've always thought a mother's hand should be. My mom's hands were always too soft.   
  
"Nice to meet you too," I tell her, mustering up my best smile before turning back to Oikawa. "I thought Mrs. Aya was your mom?"  
  
"She is," he answers, looking at me as if my confusion is completely unprecedented. "And this is my other mom."  
  
Once again, I'm an idiot. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't realize-,"  
  
"It’s okay sweetie," Hana laughs, cutting off my apologies. "Maybe if Tooru would bring his friends home more often you'd know," she teases, carding her fingers through her son's hair even though she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach.   
  
"Mama you're going to mess up my hair," he pouts, pulling away and patting the loose strands back into place. "Tobio is a big grump anyway. He'd just frown at everything if he came to visit."  
  
"Oh shush," Hana chides, Oikawa sticking his tongue out at me from behind her shoulder, "he seems lovely."  
  
"Seems," he mutters, earning a smack on the shoulder that I don't even pretend not to laugh at.   
  
"It was lovely talking to you, sweetie," Hana smiles, giving me a quick hug before grabbing her son's arm, "We should probably go find Aya before dinner starts. Can't wait to hear your toast."  
  
Oh yeah. That. I completely forgot in the wake of everything else muddling my mind. I haven't even started to write it in my head and I can feel a bit of that old fear climbing in my throat.   
  
"There you are! We've been looking for you." Natsu's voice catches my attention and I turn to find her and Kenma arm in arm behind me.   
  
"You were?"   
  
She nods, her bright hair in ringlets around her shoulders and bouncing with the movement. I don't think I've ever truly noticed how pretty she is; long eyelashes framing her big round eyes so similar to her brother's, and shiny lip glossed lips matching perfectly with the frilly dress she rented from Mrs. Aya. Something fiercely protective and brotherly stirs inside of me; wanting to make sure no one else notices how cute she is because she's just a little girl after all.   
  
"Shouyou was looking for you," Kenma adds, pulling absentmindedly at the suspenders over his black dress shirt.   
  
Now _that_ I did know. "Oh, I was just...wait, Kenma are you wearing makeup?" Kenma nods, looking up at me where I can see the dark lines forming little wings at the corners of his eyes.   
  
"Doesn't he look great? I did it for him," Natsu pipes up, her smile radiant and she shows me her handiwork. "It's called a cat eye. I think it suits him really well."  
  
"Yeah," I answer, Kenma looking as if he's close to actually cracking a smile (something I've still yet to see), "it looks really good."  
  
"Anyway, Shouyou is looking for you. He was with Bo and Kuroo over by the cake last time I saw him," she prods, that intrinsic knowing behind her eyes that always makes me feel vulnerably transparent.   
  
"Alright," I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck and avoiding her eyes. "I'll find him," I lie, which I've been told I'm awful at. I don't wait to see if she believes me, turning to head in any direction but towards Hinata.   
  
It's ridiculous, how childish I'm acting, but I've been way too obvious about my feelings lately and the last thing I want is for Hinata to catch on. I don't even want to think about how he'd react, don't want to imagine the confused disgust in his eyes if he knew. It makes my stomach turn, which doesn't even make sense because honestly I don't know what I want.   
  
Do I want him to reciprocate? To confess his love to me in some picture perfect fairytale scene and then we'll start dating and live happily ever after? I've never really considered myself a relationship type of person, it never really appealed to me, but then again Hinata has changed me in more ways than I can keep track of.   
  
Do I want to keep up this unrequited love hidden behind the guise of a healthy friendship? I don't think that's really fair to him but what the fuck am I supposed to do? If I had known everything that was going to happen these last few months would I ever have approached him in the first place?  
  
Yes. Absolutely yes. I wouldn't change that decision for the world, no matter how much bullshit followed after. I wouldn't trade the hurt or the happiness, mine or his, and maybe that's selfish of me, but I don't really care.   
  
There's a light tap on my shoulder, the warmth in those fingertips so familiar that I automatically know who they belong to. I take a deep breath before turning, hoping to expel my jumbled thoughts and childish jitters. His bright round eyes meet mine, not a hint of upset that I've been obviously avoiding him. Just normal, perfect, sweet Hinata. The one thing I want more than anything, and everything I don't deserve.   
  
"Kageyama-,"  
  
"Hinata-,"  
  
We both snap our mouths shut, a slight blush returning to Hinata's cheeks. He looks down at his shoes, shuffling a bit before looking back up at me. He lifts his hands, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before starting to sign.   
  
"Kageyama there you are!" Suga rushes over and grabs my arm, shooting an apologetic look at Hinata. "I'm so sorry Hinata, dinner is starting and I need him at the front table."  
  
He nods, smiling softly at Suga and signing a quick "see you later" before he drags me off, ignoring my protests. He lets me go at our seats, a long table facing the rest of the reception seating the couple and the two best men. It makes me kind of uncomfortable being front and center, but it's for Suga. I have to keep telling myself that.   
  
I tap my foot nervously under the table during dinner, thoughts of what Hinata was going to tell me and ideas on what to say for my toast combating in my head. It must have not been as important as I thought because when I look up Hinata is laughing along with Bokuto, Kuroo, Natsu, and Kenma at one of the tables, all traces of his previous apprehension gone from his face.    
  
Halfway through dinner Daichi's brother Hisao stands up, tapping his champagne glass with his fork like you see in the movies as everyone smiles in anticipation. He looks so similar to Daichi except taller and a few years older. They have the same build accompanied by a softness that doesn't seem fitting. Hisao is a bit softer spoken than Daichi, but his voice still commands attention much the same.   
  
He talks about Daichi as a kid, about how he was so stubborn and bossy that he didn't make many friends, earning some good laughs from embarrassing anecdotes. Then he talks about how Suga brought the good out of the characteristics that everyone thought were Daichi's flaws. He says that Suga was the only person able to see his baby brother as perfectly as he did, and it was an honor to welcome him to the family.   
  
Everyone claps, Daichi's mother dabbing at her eyes as she grips his father's hand. My stomach flips as I stand, still having no idea what I'm going to stay. Suga smiles at me encouragingly and I take a deep breath, looking out among the other guests, all of them waiting for me to speak. I lock eyes with Hinata who winks at me and signs a quick "you can do it" where only I can see, the tightness in my chest melting away with the movement of his small fingers. It's astounding how much of an affect he has on me.   
  
"I remember the day Suga met Daichi," I start, saying the first thing that pops into my head. "It was early September, we were talking in our favorite cafe but he kept looking at something over my shoulder, and I wondered what it was that had caught his attention and held it so strongly," the words flow from my mouth, picking up speed as I continue, and I'm not really sure where they're coming from.   
  
"I didn't know what was happening then, and I don't think either of them did either, but that day was the start of something new," I stop to take a breath, and I notice Hinata's eyes locked directly on mine. That was the same day he left those cookies on my doorknob. Maybe it was the start of two new things. Everyone is looking at me, but from him it's so much more intense, like he's hanging onto my every word. Like my words are meant for him to hear alone, and maybe they are. I meet his gaze before continuing.   
  
"It's March now, only a little over 5 months has passed since then, but so much has changed. I see it every day. So much more love exists in the world now, their soft edges infecting us all and making everyone, even me, see through their rose colored glasses. Suga and Daichi make all of us able to see love around us, to understand what it looks like, what it _feels_ like to have someone else's fingers wrapped around your heart, with the potential to squeeze their fist at any time. The one thing I've learned is that if you are lucky enough to find a love like these two; grab it. Grab it and run, never let go, and never let it down."  
  
Everyone claps, the same as they did after Hisao spoke, but Hinata doesn't look away. The band starts to play as dinner ends, the receptions guests getting back up to mingle or dance, and I use the opportunity to slip into the hallway.   
  
I pass a few doors before finding the bathroom, hurrying inside and clicking the lock behind me. I splash some cold water on my face, the briskness helping to clear my head a little. I look pale and gaunt in the fluorescent light, or maybe the constant changing of my mood today is taking its toll.   
  
What's wrong with me? I'm jittery and nervous, my attention span shorter than usual and I'm overanalyzing everything. I can't focus, and the things I do focus on make me anxious. Scratch that, _Hinata_ is making me anxious.   
  
I'm going crazy, slowly but surely. Was I imagining everything? Did I assign unnecessary meaning to the way he looked at me? I wonder if he realized that I was talking directly to him when I spoke about having someone's hands around your heart.   
  
"Alright Tobio," I say, staring straight into the mirror, meeting my own eyes and pretending I don't see the anxiousness behind my irises. "Get your shit together and get back out there." I slap my cheeks a few times for good measure before turning to leave the bathroom.   
  
I'm halfway down the hallway when the door at the other end opens, skinny legs and orange curls poking through as Hinata slips between the opening. "There you are," he sighs when he sees me, not happy or relieved but not quite upset either.   
  
"I uh, just stepped in the bathroom for a bit," I say, sheepishly meeting his gaze. "Talking in front of everyone made me kind of nervous."  
  
"You did great," he smiles, his signs sloppy, as if he's distracted. "Everyone really liked it"  
  
"I felt like I was just rambling," I admit, mirroring the way he doesn't quite look me in the eyes. The air is thick, stagnant, like I'm drowning in a mud puddle with the one person I find so easy to talk to.   
  
"No it was...good. Really good," he fumbles over his own hands, talking in circles. I've never felt this with Hinata, this awkward silence between us. I mean, there had been plenty of silence of course, but it had always been calming, the clear water's surface to accompany my tumultuous heart, but never this constricting feeling that neither of us really wants to be here.   
  
"I'm going to head back in," I tell him, pointing my thumb at the door leading back to the reception. "Suga is probably looking for me."  
  
I start to step past him but a tiny hand grabs onto my jacket sleeve, his fingertips so close to mine yet the space between so cold. I turn, meeting a deep worry in his eyes that I must have overlooked. "Hinata?"  
  
"Did I do something?" His voice is clear, direct, and it digs straight into my flesh, a jagged scrape instead of a gentle caress.   
  
"What do you mean?" Is that my voice? Do I sound that weak and shaky?   
  
He drops my hand so he can sign, letting it fall limply to my side. "You've been avoiding me. Did I upset you or something?"  
  
"No I-,"  
  
"Because if I did just tell me," he continues, ignoring my attempts to speak. Which is probably a good thing since I don't even know what I'd say. "I'll try my best to fix it. Whatever it is."  
  
"Hinata, listen," I say, holding up a hand to grab his attention, stopping him from continuing. "You didn't do anything, I promise. This is all me. I'm just, I don't really know I'm just feeling a bit off I guess. I'll be fine." I'm lying through my teeth.   
  
Relief flashes in his eyes for a fraction of a second, quickly replaced by concern as his eyebrows knit together. "Is there anything I can do to help?"   
  
You can stop being so perfect. You can stop saying things that make my heart flutter, that make me want to reach out and grab your stupid _beautiful_ face between my palms and never let it go. "No, I'm fine, really." I start to turn again, wanting to get out of this before I do something I'll regret, but his hands shoot up so fast I stop in my tracks.   
  
"Why?" His words are silent but it feels like he's shouting. They slap me as if he said them with his open palm to my face. "Why do you always shut me out? You can't deal with everything alone! You don't have to!" His eyes are wide and pained, like that he's saying is stinging against his skin just as much as it is against mine.   
  
"I said it's nothing," I mutter, my throat feeling threateningly tight.   
  
"Stop lying to me!" Is that anger? I've never seen him angry, and I never thought I'd be the cause of it.   
  
"Why the fuck do you care?" I scream, because it's the only thing I know how to do. I yell because if not I'll break down, crumble to the floor right here and now, but inside I'm begging, _pleading_ , for this to end. Inside I'm trying desperately to stop the hurt I see from crossing those honey eyes I love so much, but it's too late. "Why won't you let it go?"  
  
"Because I don't want you to leave again!" His silent shouting is so much louder than mine, doing so much more damage. The tears welling on his bottom lashes send daggers straight to my heart, ripping and tearing me apart from the inside. I can taste the bitter iron in the base of my throat, choking on my own regret. "I can't handle it." His hands fall to his sides at the same time as the tears in his eyes, his bottom lip trembling.   
  
"Don't," I choke, shaking my head. Am I talking to Hinata or myself? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.   
  
"I can't," he says, the sound of his voice too raw, too broken, each syllable a new nail in my coffin. "I need you."  
  
"Hinata," I step forward, looking down at him as he looks up at me, everything we are, everything we _could be_ , sitting in the inch of space between us. "Please. Just stop."  
  
He balls his fists in the front of my jacket and I expect him to push me, to throw me far away where I can't hurt him anymore, but he just shakes his head, gritting his teeth as tears fall from his chin. "I love you, you goddamn idiot."  
  
He doesn't push me; he pulls me, yanking my face down to his and colliding our lips together. It's rough and raw, teeth clicking together and catching my lips between. It's wet and warm, salty tears mixing with the taste of confession and ecstasy.   
  
I grab his face, his cheeks hot and flushed beneath my palms, pulling him back and leaning our foreheads together. "I love you too," I tell him, rubbing my thumbs across his jawbone. "And I can't believe you beat me to it."  
  
Hinata smirks up at me, and it takes my breath away. So much has happened in the span of a few minutes, and I feel like I just ran an emotional marathon, but that twinge at the corner of his lips makes it all melt away. He reaches behind him, grabbing for one of the random doorknobs along the hallway, pulling open a door and dragging me inside.   
  
It's dark and I trip, falling hard on my ass as Hinata lands on top of me, giggling as he fumbles to regain his grip on my jacket, tiny hands roaming my chest. I find his lips again in the dark, no sight, no sound, just the two of us shouting our love for each other through touch.   
  
There are days where I can't stand to breathe, not wanting the air of this putrid existence to fill my lungs; then there are days when I am so in love with life that every breath is a gift, and with his parted lips breathing new life between mine I wonder if I'll ever need oxygen again.   
  
"I love you," I whisper between kisses, against his lips, against his jaw, against his throat. "I love you I love you I love you," over and over, and he can't hear me but it doesn't matter. I never knew how three words could feel so free pouring over my tongue, out of my soul.   
  
I'm like a dam, the pressure of everything I'd built up inside myself the water pushing against my splintering concrete walls; and Hinata was the last crack, crumbling me apart as everything I felt comes crashing down, flooding around us. I can't stop running my hands through his hair, just as soft as I expected; can't stop grabbing onto his clothes, too many layers separating our skin; can't stop pulling his bottom lip between my teeth, slick and slightly swollen. His hands are on my neck, on my back, creeping up into my hair; and then they're on my face, pushing us apart.   
  
We're both panting, the only sound in the small dark space. "You suck at this," he whispers, giggling as he swipes his thumb across my lips.   
  
"You're lucky you can't hear me right now," I answer, letting him have this one since there's no way I can argue. It's true anyway. Hinata grabs my hand, pressing my open palm against his chest so I can feel his heart beating. It's fast and fluttering, and I assume mine is the same.   
  
We sit quietly for a while, still pressed together but allowing ourselves to breathe and calm down, letting everything sink in. I take a moment to realize how cliché this is, making out in the closet at a wedding. The same thing always happens in those dumb romcom movies Oikawa and Suga always make me watch.   
  
"Suga probably _is_ looking for me," I say, lightly squeezing his thigh where my fingers lay, a few moments passing before I realize he can't fucking hear me. Maybe making out with a deaf guy in the dark was not a well thought out plan. I reach for his hand, moving down from where I know his shoulders to be, tracing the letters onto his exposed forearm under his rolled up shirt sleeves.   
  
**We should head back**  
  
Hinata leans forward, trying to peck me on the nose but completely missing and landing it on my eyelid. "Okay," he giggles, crawling off of my lap. I miss the pressure immediately, and I'm tempted to say to hell with the wedding and pull him back down.   
  
The closet door cracks open, a thin strip of fluorescent light falling across my face as Hinata peaks into the hallway, checking to make sure it's clear. He waves me over, grabbing my hand to help me up and not letting go, pulling it to his lips so quick I barely feel it and then letting it fall to my side too soon.   
  
"You go first," he signs, a new radiance in the way he smiles at me, "I'll follow in a few minutes."  
  
Nodding I start to go, stopping only to turn around and pull him to my chest, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head. I can feel him laugh against my chest before gently pushing me away, motioning for me to _go already_.   
  
The walk down the hallway is so far, and I feel so cold without his warmth against me. I went my entire life without that sensation but one hit and I'm hooked. I slip back into the reception hall as slyly as possible, searching for Suga. He's at a table with Daichi's parents so I decide not to bother him, instead finding Natsu, Kenma, Bokuto, and Kuroo at the edge of the dance floor.   
  
Bokuto and Kuroo have Kenma locked in some weird ring around the rosy type maneuver, swaying in circles as Kenma's cat-tailed eyes plead for help.   
  
"Kageyama! Where have you been?" Natsu asks when she sees me, turning away from the dancing trio (if what they're doing can be called dancing and not Kenma torture).  
  
"In the, uh, bathroom," I tell her, not exactly lying. My fingers itch to rub at the back of my neck but I keep still, knowing full well that Natsu knows my tell.   
  
"Wanna dance?" She extends one tiny hand out to me and looks genuinely surprised when I nod and take it, most likely expecting a refusal.   
  
"You're too tall!" She cries, standing on her tiptoes to put her hand on my shoulder as I stoop to reach her waist.   
  
"Stand on my feet," I say, letting go of her hands.   
  
"I'm not a little girl," she huffs, crossing her arms and glaring up at me, sticking out her glossed bottom lip.   
  
"Well you're the size of one," I counter, and her mouth drops open in offense.   
  
"It's not my fault you're so tall!"  
  
"C'mon. Just hop on," I sigh, reaching for her arm. After a few more indignant huffs she obliges, and I do my best to box step with her small shoes on top of mine. I don't know anything about dancing but Natsu doesn't seem to care, loosening up after a few steps and laughing along with my movements. She may be sassy and blunt but I adore this kid.   
  
"Shouyou!" She shouts, catching sight of her brother at the edge of the dance floor, stepping off of my shoes and walking over to him. "And where have _you_ been?"  
  
Don't say bathroom, don't say bathroom; I plead, hoping that he'll develop telepathy in the next three seconds. "I got stuck talking to Daichi's grandma," he signs, the smile on his face so innocent I almost believe him. He's a better liar than I thought.   
  
If Natsu believes him she doesn't say, but I'm almost certain the cogs in her head are turning. She's no idiot. Instead of smirking at me like I'd expect she just grabs her brother's arm and pulls him over. "Come dance with us!"  
  
Over her shoulder Hinata smiles at me, shrugging as if he expected her to catch on. Once again I wish we'd stayed in the closet.   
  
The reception lasts well into the night, no one heading home until around eleven when Hana and Mrs. Aya offer to drive a slightly tipsy Oikawa, Hinata, and I home. When we get upstairs I make up an excuse to stay in the hallway after letting Oikawa in, quickly kissing Hinata goodnight and resisting the urge to press him up against the wall. Maybe if Oikawa wasn't here I wouldn't be so strong.   
  
That night as I lay in bed, staring up at the glow in the dark star sticker above my head and much too alive to sleep, I smile. I smile like I've never smiled before, my cheeks aching where they stretch. Maybe life isn't concrete, always changing and morphing with each new day, but sometimes we are given constants. Hinata is my constant. He's the one thing in my life that I know won't change. I won't let myself change him.   
  
He loves me, and that knowledge is my rock. The solidity keeping me from being swept out into the sea of unknowns that I'm so used to. And I love him, and I hope that knowledge will keep him grounded.   
  
***  
  
When I was in high school my teacher had the class read the Greek myth of Tantalus and his eternal punishment. He was doomed forever to stay in Tartarus, the deepest hell of the Underworld, neck deep in water he couldn't drink, and with delicious fruit hanging just out of his reach. He was punished for taking ambrosia from the Gods (and for feeding them his boiled son but that's not exactly relevant), and his story was supposed to teach you to be humble and not to want what isn't yours.   
  
As a kid in high school I thought the story was stupid and a waste of my precious time, but now, sitting in my living room with Hinata and Oikawa on the sofa, I've never related to a story more. Hinata came over this afternoon to watch a movie, which Oikawa seemed way too excited about, grabbing his favorite sci-fi monstrosity, creatively named _Alien_ , and putting it in the DVD player before either of us could object. Hinata seemed perfectly content with whatever was on the screen, but I couldn't focus on it for more than a second, my fingers itching where they lay on the cushion next to his thigh. Too far away.   
  
I wonder if Oikawa would even notice if I took Hinata's hand, or if he was too engrossed in the film to care. I'm tempted, but then again just sitting here is nice too, with my knees bouncing and my head buzzing and my fists clenching. Fine. I'm totally fine.   
  
"You okay Tobio? The movie isn't _that_ scary," Oikawa asks, eyeing the way my legs are jittering.   
  
"Oh yeah, uh, I just need to pee," I lie, jumping up and walking into the hallway. I don't actually go into the bathroom, just take a few deep breaths to steady myself before stepping back into the living room. Instead of taking my seat back on the couch I head over to my desk, powering on my laptop and ignoring everything else.   
  
The default windows wallpaper pops up, I never cared to change it, and I open up the internet, not really having an objective other than to distract myself. I end up on my email, a few unopened ones listed at the top, including one from Yamaguchi.   
  
**From: Yamaguchi Tadashi  
Subject: Congratulations!!  
  
I just wanted to let you know that you made callbacks! They won't actually call you until next week so consider this as kind of a heads up message. You did very well and all of the judges were quite impressed. If you'd like, and Ukai suggests that you do, feel free to come down to my office and we can talk about how the next session will go. I'd love to help you out so don't hesitate to come! The address is on the back of the card I gave you.   
  
Good luck! (Also Ukai plans to congratulate you on Monday so be warned.)  
**  
The auditions were honestly the last thing on my mind, but knowing the judges liked me kind of puts me at ease. I don't know how he does it but Yamaguchi's words are soothing even though he isn't speaking to me directly. He sort of reminds of Suga that way.   
  
I hit reply and open up an empty message, not sure exactly what to say, just to be cut off by my phone vibrating on the desktop. I hold it up to my ear, not bothering to check who it is since the only person who ever calls me is Suga.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Tobi? Hey, baby, what are you up to?" It's my mother, her voice completely catching me off guard since she only calls me maybe once every few months. There's a strain in the base of her throat that sets me on edge immediately.   
  
"Just checking some emails," I answer, wary as my mind searches for an answer to why she called. "Why?"  
  
"That's good," she mutters, not actually listening to my reply. I'd usually be mad but I'm starting to worry.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
I can hear her take a deep breath on the other end, the noise rough and staticky though the speaker. "Do you think you could come home for a little while?"  
  
Go home? I'd rather get hit by a car. "Mom what's going on?" Oikawa pauses the movie behind me which catches Hinata's attention, both of them turning around in their seats to look in my direction, concern plain on their faces.   
  
"Last night dad had a minor heart attack and the doctor said he should be fine in a few days but," she sighs, her voice wavering as she starts to speak faster, "something went wrong with his medication and I just...I thought you should be here."   
  
I expect her to start crying but she holds it together, and I wonder if it's for my sake. The line stays silent for a few minutes as I think, everything she said bouncing around inside my skull. Heart attack? Medication? I didn't think this type of thing happened in real life. "When?"  
  
"Right now, baby. If you can. You won't make it in town until around 2am though," she answers, and I can imagine her fingers gripped around the phone like a vice. "If it's an inconvenience you can wait. I'll...I'll be fine."  
  
"I'll be there," I tell her, the decision practically making itself in my head. I click the phone off, standing up and striding into the hallway without actually thinking about it, like my body has switched to override mode.  
  
"Tobio?" Oikawa calls, but I ignore him, making a bee line for my bedroom. I have my suitcase open on the bed, throwing whatever clothes my fingers touch inside, when Hinata slips into the room.   
  
"Is everything okay?" He asks, trying to step in my line of sight to read my response but I'm moving around too haphazardly. I don't answer anyway.   
  
He watches me pack, running between the bedroom and bathroom to gather everything, and he tries to ask questions every few minutes but I ignore them all. I don't want to hurt him but I can't focus on talking about this right now. I can't focus on _anything_ right now, and I feel like if I try I'll break down.   
  
"Kageyama!" Hinata shouts, grabbing my arm. When I don't turn to him he pushes my sleeve up, tracing letters onto my skin the same way I did the night before.   
  
**Let me in**  
  
I can't, but I have to. Or at least I have to try. He said that I don't have to deal with everything alone, but I find that hard to believe. I sigh and turn, relief flashing in his honey eyes.   
  
"That was my mom. She said my dad is sick and wants me to come home," I tell him, trying to wipe the worry from my face. I don't want to burden him with this. "I'm sure everything is fine."  
  
He lets go of my arm to sign. "Do you want me to come with you?"  
  
Yes. Yes _please_ , yes. I can't handle this alone.   
  
"No. I'll be fine," I lie, trying to smile in reassurance but my lips staying in their place. "I don't know when I'll be back."  
  
I grab the suitcase and step forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead and leaving the room.   
  
"Tobio what's going on?" Oikawa is on his feet, walking towards me but I slip past him into the hallway.   
  
"Don't worry about it," I call back, marching forward with everything I have. "I'll let you know when I'm coming back."  
  
And with that I step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. That's one thing I've always been good at; closing doors. 


	11. Ragdoll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has stuck withe me on this story so far. You're all so sweet and so amazing and you inspire me every day to keep doing what I love. <333
> 
> And I don't wanna fall to pieces  
> I just wanna sit and stare at you  
> I don't wanna talk about it  
> And I don't want a conversation  
> I just wanna cry in front of you  
> I don't wanna talk about it  
> 'Cause I'm in love with you
> 
> \- Avril Lavigne

The last time I rode the train was under much better circumstances. It was on the way home from meeting with Hinata's mother, a strange heaviness in my heart after leaving Uncle Ittetsu's house, he and Natsu waving from the window of the truck when they dropped us off at the station. It was stupid, I mean that place wasn't  _my_ home town, but it was a place I felt welcome, which I found were diminishing my small world. 

 

It was quiet at first, playing different card games with Hinata at the small train booth table, but my heart wasn't in it. It wasn't until he started to tell me stories from his childhood that I perked up, not understanding then that even though it was probably hard for him he must have realized something was upsetting me and wanted to help. I wonder how many times he sacrificed his own feelings to make me happy, because he loves me. I'm still trying to let that fact sink in. 

 

He told me about the town before his mother left, before everything went to shit. He told me about his first day of kindergarten and how scared he was to go, thinking that his teacher would turn out to be some horrible scaly monster that would lock him to his desk until he learned how to read. She turned out to be a very sweet lady but he cried anyway, begging his mother not to leave him there. Instead of staying with him, she walked outside, picking a flower from the planter by the door and sticking it in his jacket pocket. It was a tiny sunflower, he said, and she kissed it, telling him that her kiss would stay in that flower all day and keep him strong until it was time to go home. He had kept that flower pressed between two books in his room, but it had been lost during the move to Uncle Ittetsu's house. 

 

He told me about the trips to The Crow's Nest every Sunday, when Yachi was just starting to work there. Apparently Yachi was not always the wonderful chef I was lucky enough to meet, and it took months for her to learn the simplest recipes. Nevertheless, the Hinata family showed up every Sunday and ordered an entire apple pie, waiting as the tiny flustered girl tried with all her might to do her best. They were awful at first, mushy apples or burned crust, sometimes crust that was both raw and burned at the same time, which must have taken an incredible talent. Every week they got better, and slowly Yachi perfected that pie, and it became the diner's star dish. 

 

He told me about the tree house his dad built and his mom tore down when he fell out of it and broke his arm. About the nightmares he'd have during thunderstorms and the only thing that would put him to sleep was his mom's soft singing. How excited they all had been when it was announced he was going to have a sibling. 

 

That ride had been so warm, so full of bittersweet feelings with the air of hope between us. That was a tone I wanted to set for all of our time together; just the two of us talking, bonding and growing close, a different form of intimacy that I craved with an intensity I wasn't aware of. 

 

That day was so different from this one, with my head pressed against the train window, the glass rattling against my skull and drilling every bad thought I've had in the last few hours deeper in my mind. Not to mention that my destination is literally hell itself. 

 

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the trip wasn't so damn  _long,_ giving me time to dwell on everything. I'd rather just get this done with instead of waiting and thinking or  _feeling_ in general. I wish I could turn my emotions off for a while. Becoming a heartless drone would lessen everything I'm heading towards. 

 

And on top of all of that there's the guilt, because, after all, the reason mom called, the reason I'm in this mess at all, is because dad is sick. Worrying about my petty feelings is so childish in the face of everything happening, but they tear me apart anyway. 

 

I wish Hinata were here. I wish I hadn't fucked everything up and pushed him away at the first opportunity. I wish I could breathe all of my worries out onto the skin of his neck. But then again how would that play out? 'Hello dying father I brought a friend with me and this time I actually  _am_ in love with him, feel free to shit on everything I care about again'. No, leaving him behind was definitely the lesser of two evils. 

 

Hinata left me a message that took me a few hours to gather the courage to read, his name taunting me from the backlit phone screen. My heart hammers as I finally open it, too many scenarios racing though my mind. 

 

**From: Hinata**

**Have a safe trip. Text me when you're ready to talk, okay? I love you**

 

Usually those words would perk me up, giving me the courage to fight any battle, but right now it just drowns me in more guilt. For ignoring it for so long, for leaving him in the first place, for  _everything._

 

It's drizzling when I get to the station, a damp coldness permeating my thin jacket and reaching to my bones. I try not to look around town too much as I make my way to the closest bus stop, hoping that if I ignore the familiarity of the streets I can pretend I'm somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

 

The hospital is just a short trip by bus, but any trip on a public bus is a bad one, especially at 2am when dark figures huddle in the seats and the air smells of stale cigarette smoke, wet dog, and an array of cheap colognes. At least I'm good at keeping to myself and the other passengers thankfully do the same. 

 

I assume I look awful judging by the look the front nurse gives me when I walk into the hospital, still damp from the rain and face haggard. "C-can I help you, sir?" The way she squeaks reminds me of Yachi a bit. 

 

"I'm looking for Kageyama Toshiya," I answer, my voice sounding oddly deep as it echoes off of the empty lobby walls. "If you could just tell me what room he's in."

 

"I'm sorry but we only let immediate family in after visiting hours, and only if the patient is in serious condition," she explains, typing blindingly fast on her keyboard. 

 

"I'm his son," I tell her, my head starting to throb from the lack of sleep. "I don't know his condition but my mom is up there right now."

 

"Hold on one second," she says, clicking on the screen until she finds his name, her face dropping immediately. "Oh, uh, here he is. If you can just show me some ID really quick I'll send you right up." 

 

I slide my ID across the counter top and she hands it back with a sad smile. It must be worse than I thought, her sympathy telling me not to expect anything good. "Room 517. It's to your right when you step off of the elevator."

 

"Thank you," I mumble, turning away and heading to the first elevator I see, the wheels of my suitcase dragging behind me sounding like a thunderstorm.

 

Five floors, half a hallway, and here it is; room 517. My hand shakes as I go to turn the handle, and I hate the fact that I'm so scared after all the progress I thought I'd made. 

 

"Tobi!" Mom cries, jumping up from her chair and hurrying over to throw her arms around my neck. I stiffen at the touch. "Oh baby, you're all wet," she says, pulling away and wiping at the front of her shirt. 

 

"It was raining," I tell her, monotone and cold. "How is he?"

 

"There hasn't been much change since I called you," she answers, glancing over at dad's bed with a faraway look to her eyes. "He hasn't woken up in a while but the nurses said that's normal."

 

"What happened?" I ask, still fuzzy on the vague details she have me over the phone. I doubt any of it will make much sense but I need to know, I need all of the information available in order to feign some sort of control.  

 

"The medication they gave him for the heart attack reacted to something in his blood, I'm not sure exactly what it was, some kind of virus we didn't know he was carrying, and it's causing his heart to fail," she chokes on the last few words, causing my heart to leap in my throat. So much for cold and unfeeling. 

 

The room is silent for a few minutes as we both look over the various tubes and machines they have dad hooked up to, some beeping, and some flashing, all of them terrifying. It feels like a scene out of one of Oikawa's sci-fi flicks, but it's not. This is real. 

 

"Why don't you go home, mom? You've been here for hours and you look exhausted," I say, turning to her and trying but failing to smile. She looks so stressed and I figure having me glaring at everything won't help. 

 

"Oh, honey, I don't know. I don't want to leave him." Her face looks so strained, like she's aged five years in a day. Then again I haven't even seen her for five years so maybe that's why. 

 

"Just a few hours," I insist, "go take a shower, sleep for a little bit, and eat something. I'll call you if anything changes."

 

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" She asks, but her face tells me that the idea of a shower sounds amazing to her right now. 

 

"Yeah. No problem." She smiles, a soft, sad sort of smile, and thanks me, shooting countless 'I love you's' my way as she gathers her things spread around the room and slips out quietly. 

 

I expect a heavy silence to fall over the room but that seems impossible with the constant metallic whirring coming from the machinery. I take the seat mom had been sitting in at the bedside, taking off my damp sweater and trying my best to settle in the uncomfortable chair. 

 

Dad's breathing sounds so forced, like artificial inhales and exhales to give off the illusion that everything is working fine. He looks so small, like a shell of the man I know. In my mind he's always been a giant; his voice booming and feet stomping, smashing everything in his wake, but that is not the man in front of me. 

 

I guess there comes a point in everyone's life when they realize that their parents aren't special or supernatural, they're just people. Normal human beings with normal responsibilities. I think that this moment, looking down at my father stripped of everything I thought made him into this monster I've been afraid of for so long, is the first time I've seen us as equals, as shitty as that may sound. 

 

Yet still I can't help but feel like he's immortal, like this is no big deal because he'll be up and running in a few days. No one ever really thinks about their parents dying, and I can't really imagine it. I expected them to be a huge pain in my ass for the rest of my life; I still do. 

 

I lean forward, resting my chin on the edge of the bed, my nose inches from dad's arm. His skin smells like disinfectant and sweat. The forced rhythmic rising and falling of his chest lulls my exhausted brain to sleep and as I drift off I wonder if I can even remember what dad smelled like before everything fell apart. 

 

***

 

Mom slips back in some time around 11am, pulling back the curtains in the small hospital room and letting rays of sunlight shoot straight to my brain. I rub my eyes as I sit up, trying to force them open as my back creaks and groans. 

 

"Oh honey you look exhausted," she coos, a new spring to her step that I'm sure is at least half fabricated. Is she trying to fake positivity for me or for herself? She shoves a styrofoam cup in my hands as she pulls up another chair. "Here I brought coffee from down the hall. One cream one sugar, yes?"

 

"One cream two sugars," I say, taking a sip of the coffee, too bitter for my liking. "It's okay though. Thanks mom."

 

"How is he?" The worry lines in her forehead are deep, carving like scars in her skin. She's always looked younger than her age, always kept up on the latest anti-aging technology, but now she looks closer to fifty five than the forty five she is. 

 

"He hasn't woken up," I answer, even though it's obvious. He didn't even move the entire time I sat here, his rhythmic breathing the only sign of life. 

 

"Not yet," she smiles sadly, leaning forward to pat the top of dad's hand with her own, the ring on her third finger glinting in the harsh sunlight. She takes a deep drink of her coffee before turning to me, a new alertness in her eyes. "So, Tobi, what's new?"

 

"Not much," I shrug, realizing that without a phone between us avoiding her questions will be much harder and earning a disappointed frown and a push on the shoulder. It's a habit to shut down when my parents ask about my personal life but honestly it was never mom that was the problem. Dad's opinions were always what stung. 

 

"Come on baby, I've been out of touch with everything you do since you left," she prods, and I let out a deep sigh. Maybe talking to her won't be too bad. 

 

"I, uh, still teach over at the rec center. Everyone there is really nice, especially my boss. He'd never let you know that, though," I start, and she laughs. I even crack a smile at the thought of grumpy Ukai showing off his sensitive side. 

 

"Does it pay well? Do you have a nice place to live?" The questions roll off her tongue with ease, sounding generally interested but not maternally forced. 

 

"Yeah it works out fine for me. Also I get to use the recording studio whenever I want so that's a plus. My apartment is alright, just little cramped right now. I have a friend staying with me while he looks for a new place to move," I hesitate on the word 'friend' to describe Oikawa, 'colossal pain in my ass' would be more accurate. But to be honest I think we've grown closer to being actual friends in the last few months than the five years I've known him. 

 

"Oh? Who is it? What happened?" Her questions aren't prying, but pleasantly curious. Talking is getting easier and easier and I haven't felt this comfortable with my mom since I was a kid. 

 

"Oikawa. I met him in college. He was Suga's roommate but Suga just got married so he was kind of out of a place to live," I stop, wondering if mentioning the wedding was going too far knowing that she's well aware of the fact that's Suga is gay. 

 

"That sounds lovely. Are they happy?" She smiles over the top of her styrofoam cup, the steam from the cooled coffee long gone. 

 

"Yeah," I answer tentatively, feeling like I'm walking on eggshells, "they're thrilled, actually. I've never met a happier couple."

 

"That's good. Young people falling in love is such a beautiful thing. You don't see real love too often these days." I'm pleasantly surprised, never actually knowing her stance on things since dad had made his thoughts the only ones heard. I always assumed she felt the same. 

 

The conversation continues much the same, and I start to mention all of the other friends I've made until mom knows each of their names. I tell her about Disneyland on my birthday, about the New Year’s party, running from the cops with Bokuto and Kuroo, even my sign language lessons with Asahi. But never, not once, do I mention Hinata; too scared that she'll catch on to the one thing I don't want her to know. 

 

It feels good to sit and talk like this, feeling this pseudo comfort wash over me without dad's domineering presence hanging over us. Mom isn't like dad, isn't harsh with her words and insensitive in the way she speaks; she's just weak. She's never tried to give her own views on anything, always piggybacking on whatever dad said, even when his words knocked me down and tore me apart. 

 

It's nice, but those feelings are overshadowed by the guilt growing in my chest, expanding farther and farther against my ribcage with each breath. Guilt for feeling happy that my dad isn't part of the conversation while he lies dying right next to me. Guilt for not mentioning Hinata among my list of new friends even though he's the most important one. But mostly guilt for walking away from him and ignoring his texts after everything we've been through. I need him right now, more than anything, but I can't handle everything at once, which just reinforces the idea that I don't deserve him. 

 

"I'm so happy you've been making so many friends Tobi," mom chirps, smiling with her uneven lipstick where the styrofoam cup rubbed it off. "You were always such a quiet kid. I guess the city has been good for you." Her eyes get a bit distant before focusing back on me. 

 

"Yeah, I guess," I reply, not sure if agreeing would hurt her feelings since it means that being away from home has made me happier. It's true, but I've started to learn that thinking before I speak is a good habit to form. 

 

"I just wish I got to see you more." She reaches forward to brush my hair away from my forehead as I try to pretend her words didn't stab straight through me. She pats my cheek before leaning in to hug me, pulling back almost immediately. "Oh, honey, you smell  _awful."_

 

"That's what happens when you ride the train all night and sleep in a hospital chair, mom," I shrug, the realization that I haven't showered in about a day and a half making me suddenly crave one. 

 

"I guess so," she chuckles, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her car keys. "Here, go home and take a shower. You need to put your suitcase away anyway." 

 

I hesitate before taking the cold metal in my hands, not sure if I'm ready to go to the house yet. I've been taking baby steps; first the town, then mom, now the house, but the last one feels more like a leap. 

 

"Okay. I'll be back in a little bit. Call me if you need me," I mumble, standing to grab my bag and heading through the heavy metal door. 

 

Her car smells heavily of perfume, and I can't help but compare it to the way Hana smelled of nutmeg when she hugged me, or how Uncle Ittetsu smelled of flowers and soap. One more maternal characteristic she's missing, but I guess it's unfair to expect her to change. 

 

The roads leading to my childhood home are too familiar, my tired mind zoning out as I turn the car on the proper paths until I pull in front of the worn house I know so well. It looks the exact same as it did when I walked out of the door five years ago, everything I needed packed in the same suitcase I'm carrying now. 

 

Unlocking the door and stepping inside is surreal, everything the exact same as I remember. It's like walking into a memory. It's cold and empty, like no one has been inside for weeks. I try my best not to look at anything and make my way straight to the bathroom, turning the hot water on and letting the steam envelop the room, hoping to distract my wandering mind. 

 

The water feels amazing against my back, finally nudging away that chill in my bones from the rain and the freezing hospital room. And I must admit mom was right, the fruity body wash I find is much better than the smell of stale sweat. 

 

When I step out and get dressed my feet carry me though the hallway until I find myself sat on the dark comforter of my old bed, the walls in front of me barren as I left them. It's hard not to compare it to Hinata's old room, his walls overflowing with art and photographs, warm memories to welcome him home. 

 

I miss him, and I can feel that empty Hinata shaped hole in my chest growing and aching with angry red edges. My phone has two more unread texts sitting on the front screen, and I open them, not sure if it will help or hurt me. 

 

**From: Hinata**

**Is everything okay?**

 

**From: Hinata**

**I know it's selfish to bother you right now but I'm really worried. I'm here if you need me, okay?**

 

Hurt. Definitely hurt. My finger hovers over the reply button, wanting to tell him I'm sorry, that I'm okay, that I love him and I need him and I miss him; but I can't. I'm not ready to talk yet and starting a conversation just to shut down again would cause more problems than it would solve. 

 

I toss the phone onto the bed beside me, standing up and pacing the room, searching for something to do as a distraction. I open the closet doors, pulling down the old boxes I left up there when I went to college. 

 

The first is full of old birthday cards and movie tickets, random scraps of paper I thought shouldn't be thrown away. I used to take them out and read them when I was younger, something that always seemed to cheer me up, but now I just close the lid and push it away, opening the other box instead. 

 

This one is stuffed with my old music, sheets of notes, scraps of paper I scribbled chords onto, even some restaurant napkins written on with crayon. Everything I wrote before leaving, even the works I hated, are crammed inside. Looking through them is like having my life flash before my eyes, pinpointing the exact feelings I had while writing them as I pull out each piece. 

 

Most of it is amateur and useless, but a few of them show promise. I stack a few in the front zipper of my suitcase, wondering if maybe I can expand upon them when I get back home. The thought is calming, and I actually start to relax a bit for the first time in the last few days. 

 

I lose myself amongst the years of music stuffed in that box, barely noticing my phone ringing loudly beside my leg. I almost ignore it, but mom's name catches my attention through my peripheral vision. 

 

"Hello?" I answer, holding the cold metal to my ear.

 

"Tobi, baby, come back to the hospital," she tells me, and I can hear the choke of tears in her voice. "Dad's awake."

 

"Is everything okay?" I ask, feeling as if the breath was just knocked out of me. But why? This is a good thing right?

 

"I think so, honey. The nurses are checking everything right now, but he wants to talk to you."

 

***

 

Nervousness has always been one of my main emotions, but stepping into my father's hospital room knowing he's there waiting for me amplifies that feeling to a degree I'm not sure it's ever reached. The claustrophobic atmosphere from the nurse and mom crowding around the bed in the small white walled room doesn't help at all. 

 

I stand quietly in the doorway until the nurse finishes changing out dad's IV and smiles before leaving the room. There's not a lot of information exchange in this hospital, I must say, seeing as I honestly still don't know what's going on. 

 

"Oh look honey," mom pipes up, catching sight of me standing awkwardly in the corner. "Tobi is back." Dad makes a small winded sound but doesn't move his head. I wonder if he can. 

 

Mom waves me over and I step up to the other side of the bed where the nurse just was, looking anywhere but dad's face. My heart is in my throat, feelings mingling and muddling in my head. "H-hey dad," I mumble, finally looking down to meet his eyes, tired and distant in the way they look back at me. 

 

"You finally came home," he says, that timbre to his voice I know so well feeble and almost gone. Is this really him? Or is this some fake father put here in his place?

 

"Uh, yeah. I came last night when mom called me," I answer, fighting with him the last thing in the world I want right now. "How are you feeling?" God, what a stupid question. He feels shitty, that's why he's in the damn hospital. 

 

"Like a million bucks," he answers, looking me straight in the eyes as I try to keep mine from darting away. "When are they going to take these damn things out of my arm and send me home? I have things to do." No, this is definitely my dad. 

 

"Toshi don't pull on that," mom clucks, swatting softly at dad's hand as he tugs weakly on his IV tube. It pulls a bit at his skin and my stomach lurches. 

 

He looks completely awful, splotchy purple bruises on his arms and a clear tiredness to his eyes that can't be cured by rest. His vision drifts in and out of focus, his body fighting so hard against itself to stay alive let alone to stay alert. To say that I'm uncomfortable is an understatement. Dad's gaze is still on my face and my skin is crawling with a need to leave this room. To walk away from the situation as a whole and never turn back, but it's not that easy; it never has been.  

 

"Mom do you want some coffee or something? I can head down the hall and grab some," I ask, my foot tapping against the linoleum and my fingers drumming silently along the side of my jeans. I can't calm down, can't stop moving, because if I did more of my mental capacity would be focused on dad and I'm already so close to falling apart. 

 

"Oh no I'll go get it," she answers, oblivious as ever and taking away my opportunity to step out and take a breath. "You two catch up." She pats my shoulder on her way out of the room, the door closing behind her sounding like the slam of a prison cell. 

 

Dad lets out a sigh and I turn back, his eyelids fluttering but he holds them open, so strong even now. Is there something I should be doing? Fluffing his pillow or checking his pulse? Anything other than standing here with bated breath and waiting for him to speak?

 

"How are you, son?" He starts, the sound like a boot dropping in the silent room. "You look different, taller maybe" Talking looks like it's exhausting him but his steel spirit remains unbroken. 

 

"Yeah I guess," I mumble, running a hand through my hair absentmindedly. "I guess five years changes you a bit."

 

"Maybe not taller," he continues, disregarding what I said. I'm not sure if he even heard me. "You look...happier." He winces suddenly, closing his eyes and letting his breath whistle softly between his lips before opening them again. 

 

What hurt him? Was it something inside or was it the thought of how miserable I looked the last time he saw me? "I am happier."

 

He nods, eyes going out of focus for a moment. "Guess it only took getting away from me, huh?"

 

I don't want this. I don't want to fight with him like this, while he's so frail and yet somehow still stronger than me. "Not exactly. It was a mixture of things," I tell him.

 

He's silent for a long while, each mechanic exhale grating against my skull until I think he's fallen back asleep. I start to relax, and when he speaks again it almost makes me jump. 

 

"Do you hate me, Tobio?" My blood turns cold in my veins, five short words I never really thought about stopping me in my tracks. Do I hate my father? Has everything that ever happened between us caused the seed of abhorrence to grow in my chest like ivy covering all of the dark corners inside of me like a disease?

 

"No. No, I don't hate you, dad," I answer, choking the words out like gas in my throat. 

 

"Well you sure as hell don't like me," he coughs, heaving with the movement and clutching weakly at his chest. He's more alert than he was a few minutes ago but it comes and goes in waves. 

 

"How can I? What do you expect after everything?" I don't know what to say other than the truth, so it's starts to pour out with unstoppered force. 

 

"Do you want to know why I left? Why I never call and I never come to visit?" There's too many thoughts in my head at once, too many memories I locked away for good measure fighting against their metal bonds. 

 

"I know why, son," dad says, a twist to his face that if I didn't know better I'd call regret. "It's my fault, isn't it? You blame me. Hell, I'd blame me too."

 

I'm not sure if these are the words I want to hear, or if any words will fix things, but he says them anyway. "I was too tough on you, expected you to be like me when you were nowhere near," he sighs, looking away from me for the first time to stare towards the window. "You were my only son, and I wanted you to be tough, and so when you started struggling and losing focus on what I wanted for you I thought I could fix it. Thought I could fix  _you_ , but you weren't broken."

 

Struggling would be an understatement. I've always been an anxious person, the slightest thought or provocation sending warning signals to my brain that I couldn't get rid of, but sometime around high school it got out of control. I couldn't focus, couldn't handle socializing for what seemed like no reason at all, my attacks growing until I started to fall behind in school, staying home more often than not. Mom sent me to a therapist, dad pulled me out, and it was the loneliest point of my life. 

 

"You holed yourself up in your room and I knew something was wrong but I didn't know how to find out what it was," he continues. "I got so angry, and it was never at you, but I took it out on you as if it was. I was angry with myself for not knowing how to help, for not being the father I wanted to be. I tried to take away the things that kept you disconnected from me, but that just made everything worse." His voice is starting to crack, the strain of conversation showing clearly on his face. 

 

The only thing that helped me during that time in my life was music. The notes I wrote were my lifeline grounding me to the earth that I wanted so badly to escape. It consumed every hour of my thoughts, all the while believing that I was doing something that would make dad proud, those words he said to me so long ago circling my mind as I scratched one item off my mental checklist of things that worried me. And then one day it was taken away with a few well placed shouts and choice words telling me what little my passions would amount to. That day built a wall I'm not sure anything could break down. 

 

"You were always so quiet," there's a glisten to dad's face now that I'm not sure is caused by emotion or pain, but pointing out either would be a blow to his pride. "You kept to yourself as a kid, never made many friends, never brought anyone home with you let alone a girl. And then you went off to college and you brought that Sugawara boy home for Christmas and,  _god_ , son, you should have seen the way you looked at that kid. It shocked me, and I snapped," he coughs again, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain. I wonder if he notices the matching wetness to my own cheeks. 

 

I remember that Christmas clearer than any other day in my life. Suga had nowhere to go for the holiday since his adoptive mother would be out of town so I invited him home with me, an innocent gesture in my mind at the time. Mom and dad didn't see it that way, seeing their only son bringing home a boy for Christmas and immediately assuming we were dating. Dad exploded, not giving Suga or I a chance to explain. So many ugly things were said, so many words etched into my brain that made me freeze up and just stand there and take it. The last words my dad said to me before Suga dragged me out of the front door were that I would never amount to anything but a queer burnout, wasting my life on idle dreams. 

 

"And after that I was too proud to apologize. Too stubborn to change," he sputters, his breathing starting to become more labored as he spits out these words that clasp around my throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Tobio," I can't see him clearly anymore through my haze of tears but I can hear the remorse in his voice. I step forward, closer to the bed than I had dared before, dropping to my knees and shoving my face against the blankets. These words aren't what I want, definitely aren't what I deserve, but they're everything I've needed from him for so long. 

 

His hand touches my head and I fall apart, sobbing at the touch I haven't felt since everything still seemed okay. "I just wanted what I thought was best for you and it never was," I can feel the coughing wracking his body under my head. "I just don't want to die a bad father."

 

"I love you, dad," I blubber into the blankets, not sure if he can even hear me. The monitors start to beep faster, his pulse quickening with the convulsing of his chest, alerting the nurses just outside the door. One steps in, a serious look to her face as she pulls me up and away from the bed so she can check on dad. 

 

This can't happen; he can't die like this with so many things left for me to tell him. So many things I need him to know. I want him to know about Yamaguchi and the auditions, about all of the new friends I've made, about how far I've come from the pathetic boy who holed himself in his room. I even want to tell him about Hinata; about the sunshine I've found in this overcast life. 

 

There's not enough time, we wasted too much of it not understanding each other. I've never been so aware of the seconds passing by as I am right now. Mom steps in behind me, her face nothing but fear, more nurses filing in behind her, telling us that we need to leave to give them more room to work. Dad turns; eyes connecting with mine between arms and through the gaps of nurses, focusing on me with such intensity that time seems to slow. His lips move, and there's no way I can hear him over the clamor around us but I understand completely. "Make me proud, Tobio."

 

The nurses finally manage to shove mom and I into the hall and she turns to me frantically asking what happened. I tell her I don't know, which only makes her ask more questions. It's too loud and I can't focus, I can't stand here and wait around while my chest constricts and everything that was just rebuilt crumbles apart all over again. I can't stand here while my father dies ten feet away. 

 

So I don't. I turn and sprint down the hall, barely hearing mom's shouts behind me, not even taking the time to feel bad for leaving her. I skip the elevator, flying down the stairs and almost losing my footing multiple times. I reach the first floor and I'm lost amongst rows of indistinguishable doors, heading down each one until I can find the lobby. I hear the front counter nurse's voice, following it to find my way. 

 

"Sorry sir, that patient is in intensive care and is not receiving visitors at this time,"

 

I turn a corner into another hallway identical to the last. 

 

"I'm sorry sir I don't understand,"

 

One more corner and I'm on the edge of the lobby, making my way as quickly as I can to the front doors. 

 

"We have an interpreter, let me just call her really quick,"

 

I stop dead in my tracks, turning to the counter I just bypassed. The nurse has the phone up to her ear, waiting to be connected to the proper wing, and in front of her is Hinata. Her eyes connect with mine, widening with surprise at my appearance which must be completely awful, and Hinata spins around to see what caught her attention. 

 

His face blanches when he sees me, and if my blood could run any colder than it already is I'm sure it would. He takes a step forward but stops, a clear hesitance on his face, probably wondering why I've ignored him. Probably angry with me. 

 

I don't even notice I'm moving until I'm in front of him, collapsing to my knees and wrapping my arms around his legs, pressing my face into the warmth of his stomach and sobbing. He doesn't move, even though he must be so confused and scared, just gently pulls me to my feet and leads me to one of the couches in the corner of the lobby waiting room. 

 

He lets me collapse back on top of him when we sit, rubbing soothing circles on my back as I sputter out words I know he can't hear. It's a mixture of apologies and explanations of what's happened, along with countless 'I love you's' for good measure. 

 

I don't know at what point my tears stop, nothing really making sense in a perspective of time, but Hinata's fingers never leave my back. I never asked how he got here or why he came, but I make a note to myself to thank him, because without him here I don't know where I'd be. He somehow knew the exact moment I would fall apart, appearing with golden wings to save me once again. Hinata Shouyou is my guardian angel, holding me by the skin of my wrist just above this pit of nothingness that I see before me. He is pure, and I am so close to damnation. 

 

***

 

Mom finds us downstairs at some time when the sky outside is dark but it doesn't quite feel like night. I don't know what look crosses her face when she walks up to me, head on Hinata's lap with his hand in my hair gently stroking my aching head. Usually I'd like to know what that initial reaction was but right now it doesn't seem so important. 

 

I barely notice her, only looking up when Hinata taps lightly on my shoulder. She looks awful, mascara trails down her cheeks but she doesn't care as much as she would under any other circumstance. She doesn't say anything, just looks at me in such a way that says everything I need to know. Dad is gone, everything I wanted to say dying with him on the front of my lips. It's a bitter taste that I'm not sure I can ever rinse out. 

 

Mom drops down on the couch next to us and I sit up, letting out a breath that I feel like I've been holding in for hours. "Mom this is Hinata," I start, barely louder than a whisper yet still echoing through the silent room. "He came here to check on me."

 

Hinata leans forward so he can see mom better, one hand still on my arm but I don't care. "I'm sorry for your loss,” he says, his voice brightening up the gloomy atmosphere a little. 

 

Mom smiles weakly, water welling up in the corner of her eyes before leaning forward and wrapping both of us in a hug, her arms not quite long enough to reach all of the way around. "Thank you so much," she cries, her tears falling on the front of my shirt and I don't have the heart to let her know Hinata can't hear her. 

 

We sit like that for a while until a nurse comes to get mom for some paperwork and I start to believe that this familial feeling between my mother and the man I love is something I can hold on to. Is that a selfish thought?

 

On the way here I wished I could turn my emotions off to make it easier to deal with the oncoming shit storm, but now as I sit here with an empty chest and burning eyes I realize that was an awful wish. When mom leaves I finally turn to Hinata, hoping that all of the shame I feel for ignoring him shows on my face. I want him to yell, I want him to curse and slam his fists against my chest because I just want to feel  _something._

 

He doesn't, of course, choosing instead to lift the back of my hand to his lips and tilt his head to the side as if to ask 'how are you doing?'. My chest clenches; maybe I do feel something. 

 

"I'm sorry," I say, ignoring his silent question. "I shut you out again. I made you worry and it was stupid. I was so fucking-,"

 

This time he shuts me up with his lips instead of his hands, leaning up onto his knees on the cushion to reach, feather soft but with purpose. He pulls away too soon and sits back to sign. "Your burdens are mine too, okay? And mine are yours. When I told you I loved you I meant it, and that means I want to help you fight every battle. You're stuck with me now."

 

His words always hit my shredded pieces like a needle and thread, sewing together every seam and stitching me back together. I'm not perfect, with uneven edges and visible threads hanging from my patches, but with him here it'll do. With Hinata I can do anything, because even though I'm not perfect, even though pieces of me are still torn and tattered, he can see through my imperfect edges and still love the pitiful rag doll he sees. And for now, in this cold hospital lobby with the world one soul lighter than before, that's enough. He's enough, and all I can do is pray that his threads are strong enough to keep us both tied together. 

 


	12. Oil and Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took forever, finals weak really took up a huge chunk of my time but it's over now! I'll have way more time to work on this for the next few weeks and I'm hoping to have it finished before heading back to school since we're so close to the finish line (don't hold me to that lol).  
> Also! There is now a playlist to accompany the fic which out can check out right [here!](http://8tracks.com/ghostfox/scattered-light)  
> I'll probably add more to it as I write the last chapters and everybody is welcome to send me any songs that make you think of the story or that you just think are neat and could fit in!
> 
>  
> 
> Cause I'm just one of those ghosts  
> Travelin' endlessly  
> Don't need no roads  
> In fact, they follow me  
> And we just go in circles
> 
> And now I'm told that this is life  
> That pain is just a simple compromise  
> So we can get what we want out of it
> 
> \- Paramore  
> (Song suggested by the lovely Ainu! Many thanks, friend ily <333)

The collar against my neck is stiff and smells of mothballs, chafing against my skin with the roughness of both age and metaphorical burden. Hinata's fingers work at the wide knot just below my Adam's apple, meticulous and calculated as always. I think I fell in love with those fingers before anything else, imagining them against my skin and so far from disappointed when I finally felt it. He finishes tying my tie, looking up to meet my eyes with that familiar warm glint to his irises. 

 

His hands are still gripping the tie, feeling like a noose around my neck, and while usually I'd feel suffocated by the sensation I figure if he wanted to strangle me I'd let him. I'd let him stab me straight through the heart and I'd thank him afterwards. But he doesn't; he just lets go and trails his hand down my chest, subtly yet not so subtly lifting himself to his tiptoes, pretending that he doesn't need to lean on me to keep himself upright. 

 

My hands snake around his hips, resting on the small of his back, fingers slightly under the hem of his shirt as I duck my head to meet his lips. His taste is like liquid fire down my throat, the only whiskey I'll ever need because he's just so damn  _intoxicating._

 

"You look good," he smiles, pulling away and settling back flat on the ground. He's lying, of course, but I appreciate the sentiment. I turn to the mirror on the closet door of my old bedroom, eyeing the way the old suit sags against my shoulders and waist, hanging like a cheap costume on my lanky limbs. 

 

Mom had insisted I dig something out of dad's old clothes in the attic since the black sweater I happened to throw in my suitcase apparently wasn't “proper funeral attire”. Hinata and I had climbed up to dig through boxes but I ended up just grabbing the first thing I found and bolting, the attic stifling and dark and much too far out of my comfort zone. Dad and I were similar in height but he was much thicker, much more wide shouldered and bulky, and I look like a child trying on his clothes. 

 

The three of us had somehow ended up back home in the early morning hours after mom finished all of the paperwork nurses were shoving at her, the drive home such a blur that I'm not sure it actually happened. Surprisingly mom refrained from asking questions about Hinata, which just left the ominous feeling that an interrogation was looming over our heads, threatening to drop at any second. The three of us collapsed on the living room sofa, mom pulling up a quilt on one side of me and Hinata laying his head against my shoulder on the other. We slept like that, a pile of exhausted hearts and weary eyes all resting for a few precious hours as we shared warmth on borrowed time. It was the best I've ever slept, my thoughts retreating to a place where I believed I could control them. 

 

"Here, try this on," I say, rummaging through my closet after stepping away from Hinata's lips. It was mom's idea to see if he fit any of my old clothes from middle school, and I tried not to think of how apparent my emo phase was as I pull out a black dress shirt and skinny jeans, offering them to him sheepishly. I even find some dark suspenders in the back. 

 

He tosses them on the comforter of my bed, starting to pull off his shirt without a thought, and you could probably cook pancakes on my cheeks. Should I turn away? No that's stupid, isn't it? I mean, we haven't talked about if we're dating or not but we're definitely  _something._ Besides, I don't actually  _want_  to turn away. My eyes trail over the skin of his back, soft and pale, freckles on the tops of his small shoulders. 

 

He pulls the shirt on, starting to work the buttons with those beautiful fingers, but I stop him, covering them with my own. I don't know what's gotten into me but I've been so affectionate these past few days, like the part of me that needed to touch and taste and smell another human being was repressed for years and now the dam is broken and I can't stop. My hands are on his shoulders, down his sides, on his neck, on his face; just feeling his skin and absorbing his presence as he giggles. I could do this for hours, could explore every inch of him countless times and never grow tired, but the vibrating phone between my thigh and his hip has other ideas. 

 

I try to ignore it but Hinata pushes me lightly away, pulling the phone out for me and holding it up with a pointed look. I sigh, taking it from him and sliding the green button over the familiar face on the screen. "Hey Suga,"

 

"Kageyama! Where are you? What's going on? Hinata didn't tell me what happened and I've been worried sick," he stops to take a breath and I can hear Daichi's low voice in the background probably trying to calm him down. 

 

I've been expecting this for a while now, ever since Hinata told me that he got directions to my hometown from Suga. "I'm fine, Suga. I'm at home. Hinata's here with me," I stop, hoping he can't tell from my tone what's going on between us, which also begs the question: what  _is_  going on between us?

 

"He made it? He came over super worried about you but wouldn't tell me why which made me worry too and, oh god, I've been such a mess," he pauses again, another familiar voice piping up behind him. "No I'm not going to ask him if he took your sweater, Oikawa, hush. You two are too loud I'm going in the other room."

 

I drop onto my bed and look up at Hinata who's just finishing buttoning the skinny jeans I pulled out for him as Suga moves through the hallway and closes a door behind him. The jeans fit perfectly and I almost laugh, imagining him standing next to a thirteen year old me and barely measuring up. "Okay, anyway, what's going on Kageyama?" Suga's voice pulls me back down, but my eyes linger. 

 

"It's, uh, a long story," I answer, the heaviness of the last few days starting to settle back on me and washing away the short respite I found on Hinata's skin. "My mom called and told me to come down because dad had a heart attack. That's why I left so quickly. I didn't mean to worry you guys." That's only a half truth. I knew they'd be worried, I just didn't allow myself to think any farther than my own bubble of concern. 

 

“No, no don't worry about it at all its fine. Is he okay? How's your mom?" How can he be so concerned over two people who treated him so poorly? People that I've spent the entire time I've known him trying to forget? 

 

"Mom is doing alright I guess," I start, beating around the bush for no apparent reason. I watch as Hinata wrestles with the suspenders I gave him, smiling despite myself as he struggles with one hand behind his back and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. "But dad, uh...dad passed two nights ago." I didn't expect the twinge I hear in my throat. "The funeral is on Monday, we should be home after that."

 

"Oh, Kageyama I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Do you want me to come for the funeral?" Hinata turns, finally latching the suspenders and taking a seat next to me. He lays his hand palm up on the comforter and I draw lazy circles on the pad with my fingertips. 

 

"Suga, you only met him once and he was a dick to you,"

 

"Yeah but you-,"

 

"I appreciate it, really I do," I cut him off, not in the mood for one of his classic "I know deep down you really need me so just say the word" speeches, "but I think I can handle this one. Dad and I sort of...talked, about things, and mom and I have been getting along fine so there's not really any worry. Besides, Hinata is here." That sounded a bit harsh after it came out, like Hinata has replaced him which is so far from the truth. 

 

"You sound like you're taking it pretty well," he says, no sign of betrayal in his voice, thank god. "I'm still worried about you though. Call me the second you need me, okay? I don't care what time or how stupid it is. Call me. Promise?"

 

"Promise," I answer, and it's probably not a lie. 

 

"And tell Hinata I said thank you," he adds, a soft sort of reverence in his voice. "For being there."

 

I look up at Hinata who smiles softly, closing his palm around my fingers and running his thumb across my skin. "Will do," I answer, but I'm not sure that's a request I can fulfill. A million thank you's wouldn't be enough. 

 

"I think Daichi and Oikawa are arguing over the remote again. I need to go before they break another cup or something. Call me, okay?" I can hear him open the door and head back down the hall, the sound of two voices becoming louder in the background. 

 

"I already promised. See you when we get back," I say, hanging up and falling back onto the comforter but careful not to pull my hand from Hinata's. 

 

"Suga says thanks for coming out here," I mumble, not expecting him to be paying attention, but he squeezes my hand in answer. He pulls the sleeve back of the bulky suit jacket I still have on and carefully traces letters onto my arm. 

 

 **You needed me.**  

 

I did. I needed him so badly and he knew it. He knew it despite everything I did to throw him off the trail. There's so much I want to say. I want to ask him why; why he puts up with me, why he loves me, if he  _still_  loves me, what we are; but I just settle for "I love you."

 

He traces his answer on my arm, and I figure I can never get tired of the feeling of those beautiful fingers against my skin. I start to sit up, planning to pull him back down with me, but mom's footsteps sound in the hallway, followed by a light knock at the door. 

 

"Come in," I call, and Hinata starts to pull his hand away from mine but I squeeze it tighter. He means too much for me to hide him any longer. I'm not ashamed of this, and I don't want him to feel like I am. 

 

"Are you boys hungry," mom asks, popping her head in the door and trying to look as if her eyes aren't dry and her cheeks aren't hollow. "I was going to go out if you'd like to tag along. Oh that suit looks nice, honey. I knew you'd find something up there."

 

I turn to Hinata who nods, and sit up. "Yeah we'll be out in a minute. We just have to change."

 

She closes the door without an answer and I listen to her steps as she heads back down the hall, a distinct jingle as she grabs her car keys off the table. 

 

I know that there's a barrage of questions waiting for Hinata and I on this trip, but oddly enough I'm not worried about it. I spent too many years in this house, in this town, hiding the things I loved from people who threatened to take them away from me, and I can't do that anymore. I  _won't_  do that anymore. I love Hinata, more than anything I've ever loved before, and I'm ready to let it show. 

 

***

 

I should've been afraid. I should've been very afraid, I think to myself as mom pulls into the parking lot of a buffet restaurant. The ride over had been pleasantly quiet and I let myself get too comfortable, answering that anything was fine when mom asked where I wanted to eat. It's my own fault that I've ended up in this den of earthly hells. 

 

Hinata practically leaps from the car, bouncing excitedly as we head up the front sidewalk. "I love buffets," he signs to me with a smile, and I start to rethink our relationship (can I use that word?). 

 

Mom's shoes click against the pavement and mine drag, creating an unpleasant scraping sound to match my unpleasant feelings. I scan the crowd through the wall of front windows, trying to see how many sticky children and pushy adults there will be to deal with, focusing so intently that I almost bump into mom when she turns around abruptly. "Oh!" She starts, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Tobi, I totally forgot you don't like buffets. Do you want to go somewhere else?"

 

The fact that she remembers such a small fact about me catches me completely off guard. If her knowledge of how I take my coffee had been any indication I thought there were a ton of things she never cared to remember or learn about me. "N-no," I stutter, pushing my hands in my pockets because I honestly don't know why I'm saying this. "It’s fine, mom, really. Besides, Hinata loves them and we're already here."

 

"Are you sure, honey?"

 

"Completely," I answer, pulling the door open for the two of them to enforce my willingness. I think I might be a bit of a masochist. 

 

It's a tough journey from the counter to the table, a sea of children and unsanitary silverware swimming before me as I struggle to wade through and find the least offensive food. Salads of any kind are out of the question, too many dairy based components for my comfort level, so I settle on some nice, safe, steamed vegetables. Not the tastiest option, which makes the probability that they've been touched lessen. 

 

The three of us survive, making it back to the table at relatively the same time, neither mom or Hinata seeming quite as stressed out as I am. Hinata's plate has a spoonful of macaroni salad on the side and I try my best not to think about it. How much does making out with him  _really_  mean to me? 

 

"So, boys," mom starts, unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap, "what's new?" She looks gaunt and tired, so I let the dumb question slide. 

 

"Nothing much," I say, feeling Hinata's eyes dart between us to follow the conversation. He's been staying at the house for two nights now, but conversations between the three of us are still slow and clunky. "Suga called to check on us earlier."  I don't look up as I say it, the thought of past events still weighing heavily on Suga's name. 

 

"That was nice of him," she says as she lifts a spoonful of soup to her lips. I wonder when the last time she actually sat down to eat was because the food seems to perk her up significantly. I don't really know how mom is handling everything since she's careful to hide her apparent exhaustion and stress when we're in the same room. I guess that's where I get it from. 

 

Honestly I'm not even sure how  _I'm_  handling it. I keep switching between feeling at peace with what happened and having the feeling of overwhelming grief crashing down on me in episodes. All I know is that I've been super clingy to Hinata and I hope he isn't annoyed with me because he's the main reason I haven't fallen apart. 

 

"Hinata, honey, slow down you're going to choke," mom chides, pulling me out of my thoughts to see Hinata shoving bites of macaroni and cheese in his mouth. He looks up, a glob of cheese on the corner of his bottom lip, and shoots her a thumbs up. 

 

"That's just how he eats," I tell her, wondering if she can hear the fondness in my voice like I can. "He'll be fine."

 

She seems unconvinced; eyeing him with worry as she delicately cuts a piece of her pot roast. "By the way, how did you two meet? I don't remember you mentioning him when you talked about your other friends," mom asks, and thankfully Hinata has his head ducked over his plate. I was stupid for not mentioning him and it's just not something I want him to know about. 

 

"We're neighbors," I say, and Hinata nods as he looks back up and joins in the conversation. It feels odd using the word neighbor to describe him, after everything we've grown to be beyond that point. "And we've been hanging out for a few months now. Almost all of my new friends are from him."

 

"I see," she hums, looking between the two of us. Hinata averts her gaze, looking as if he's afraid to say too much and deciding to just say nothing at all. "Is that all? You seem really close."

 

"Yeah, we're pretty close." I want to say more but my tongue feels thick. She obviously knows there's more between us and I don't mind telling her more, this new openness I've found between us doing wonders for our relationship, but I can't think of the right words to describe it. 

 

Hinata puts his hand on my knee, and I squeeze it lightly with my own. He nods at me with a gentle smile that says everything I need to know. "Mom, I....we-,"

 

"It's okay, honey," she smiles, putting a stop to my stuttering. "I know."

 

"You do?"

 

"Well I have an idea," she continues, pushing her half eaten plate away and sipping her coffee. "I knew when you were smaller that you weren't interested in little girls, and after a while I figured that you weren't interested in  _anybody_. But I realized that that was wrong too, that you're so full of love that it's hard to distinguish what you consider friendship and romantic love. I never talked to you about it, and I definitely never talked to your father about it, but I came to the conclusion that when you finally fell in love with someone you'd fall completely, regardless of gender." She stops, the table going quiet until I'm sure she can hear the beat in of my heart. "But then again I may be wrong; I never even stopped to ask."

 

I'm completely blown away. I spent twenty four years thinking this woman knew absolutely nothing about me, assuming that she couldn't give two shits about the way I felt while all along she knew me better than I knew myself. It took me years to understand myself and she just summed up everything in a few sentences. I'm speechless, so Hinata speaks for me. 

 

"Mrs. Kageyama," he says, his voice grounding me just enough to pay attention to the conversation. 

 

"Please, call me Kanami." She smiles at him and he nods, taking his hand out of mine so he can sign. 

 

"Kanami," he signs, and my voice wavers slightly as I translate. I wonder if she loves the way her name sounds on his fingertips like I do. "I don't have an answer to give you, about what we are or what we consider our relationship to be, but there's one thing I know for sure. I love your son, and I want to be with him, to support and encourage him every day for the rest of my life."

 

There are tears in mom's eyes when I look back at her, matching those I can feel in my own. "Th-there you have it," I mumble, stumbling over my words like an idiot which only makes Hinata smile wide and bump me on the shoulder with his head. 

 

"That's all I've ever wanted to hear," mom beams, reaching across the table to grip Hinata's hand in her own. "Thank you so much."

 

Hinata just giggles, squeezing her hand before jumping up from the booth seat with a new brightness to his eyes. "Ice cream?" 

 

He pulls me with him back through the sea of people towards the soft serve machine, his hand warm and soft in my own. I can honestly say I never thought I'd reach this point; a healthy relationship with my mom, good friends back home, and the love of my life by my side, but I'm so happy that I have. Despite the events that brought us here, despite every up and down and snowstorm we've weathered together, I feel content with what I have. My true family is one member bigger and I could never even start to repay him for everything he's given me. 

 

***

 

Most of the wooden pews shining under the lights in the musty funeral home are empty, a stiffness to the air as a few people whisper to each other, not daring to speak any louder while waiting for the service to start. How many people would show up if I died? How many lives have I touched enough for them to want to tell me goodbye? Ten? Twenty? I'm not sure, and I don't think it's really a question I want answered.

 

My dad lived for forty nine years and only about thirty people are here, most of which being family members I have no recollection of who stopped to give a cold hello and shake my hand before taking their seats. Mom dropped Hinata and I off here before heading to the front of the building to meet her two sisters and show them to the room so the responsibility of greeting all of these strangers falls on me. 

 

How do funerals work? I've never actually been to one and have no idea what's expected of me. There's no hearse, no pallbearers or empty grave gaping like a wound in the earth and waiting to swallow its offering; there's not even a casket, just a simple beige urn sitting atop a table surrounded by framed family photographs and vases of white flowers. 

 

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I sigh, turning to face Hinata on the wooden seat that's starting to make my ass hurt, signing as to make the least amount of noise possible. 

 

"It'll be over before you know it," he answers, smiling sympathetically and patting my knee. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

 

"Not at all," I tell him, wondering if my exhaustion translates well through my motioned words. "Do I  _have_  to say something?"

 

"Yes, Kageyama," he answers, his chiding tone reaching me perfectly despite the silence. "He was your father, you have to say something."

 

He's right. Of course he's right. I sigh again, slumping down on the pew and hoping that if I sit here quietly everyone will forget I'm even here. Having a stuffy gathering of people I don't even know and preaching my grief to them from a podium is not the way I want to say goodbye to my dad. I've already said my goodbyes, and this just feels like an empty gesture. 

 

"Tobi!" A shrill voice calls from the entrance, followed by a herd of clicking heels as three women make their way towards Hinata and I, identical smiles the perfect mix of excited and sympathetic painted in garish lipstick. Mom and her two sisters stop in front of me, my aunts pulling me up into a double attack of bone crushing hugs. 

 

"You've gotten so tall! I haven't seen you since you were...well you were still tall but you were just a baby," Aunt Mayuri, the oldest of the trio, coos, reaching up to pat my cheek. 

 

"I was nineteen last time you saw me, Aunt Mayuri," I mumble, their energy already draining me. 

 

"Exactly, just a baby. And now look at you," Aunt Chiyo chimes in, her voice thickening with each word, tears threatening to form. "All grown up and independent, and now you have to deal with this," she chokes, each word shriller than the last as she gestures to the urn at the front of the room. She uses one hand to dab at her dampening makeup and the other to rub at her belly that I just noticed is swelled to popping. 

 

"Hush, Chiyo, it's not good for the baby," mom says, grabbing her hand and shoving a tissue into her palm. 

 

Aunt Mayuri nods, patting her youngest sister's shoulder before turning back to me. "How are you doing, honey?" Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiles at me, motherly warmth there despite her never having raised children. It's odd, but even though she always seemed to me as the most capable of parenthood she's the only one of the trio not to fulfill that role. 

 

"I'm doing fine," I answer, and I'm not lying for once. "It was really tough at first but we've been managing."

 

The boisterous entrance and Aunt Chiyo's blubbering seem to have caught the attention of the other wooden guests, all of them shifting uncomfortably in their seats at the noise. My stomach twists; everything starting to feel too overwhelming, but Hinata's hand finds its way to the small of my back, the tension there seeming to seep into his skin in some sort of osmotic transfer. 

 

After a few more loud sniffles Aunt Chiyo turns to me again, her makeup somehow still perfect but the top of her nose red and raw. "Who's your cute friend, Tobi?" She leans to the side to see Hinata better behind me, smiling when he waves at her with that signature sunshine smile. 

 

"Oh. This is my friend, Hinata," I tell her, ushering him forward so they can shake his hand. 

 

"It's nice to meet you," he signs, earning curious glances from the two women. I open my mouth to explain but snap it back closed when mom starts to speak. 

 

"He says it's nice to meet you," she translates, looking to me to make sure she's getting it right. I guess she's picked up more sign language in the last week than I thought. "He's Tobi's _special_ friend."

 

"Mom!" A few people turn around in their seats, stretching their necks to look at us, obviously able to hear everything we say in the echoing room. I can feel my face burning as Hinata giggles by my side, trying to hold them in when he sees the incredulous look on my face.

 

"Don't even try to talk to me when we get home," I sign, knowing it's the only way I can say something to him without it being overheard but it does nothing but make him giggle harder. 

 

There's a gruff cough from the entryway as a man I assume is the priest makes his way to the front of the room. I try to reclaim my seat in the back next to Hinata but mom drags us both to the front and I end up sitting between him and Aunt Chiyo who already has fresh tissues in her hands. 

 

Sitting like this has a certain sense of déjà vu, reminding me of how we sat together in the silent hospital lobby, or huddled on the sofa in the dark, and even when we sat in the restaurant a few nights ago. Each time was different yet they all felt natural, like finally finding the key to a lock I'd been struggling with for years. 

 

The priest reads some scripture I don't listen to, and initiates a prayer I don't participate in, feeling as if the room is shrinking with each inhale from the inclined heads surrounding me. I can feel the oxygen draining slowly around us, and I'd rather be somewhere,  _anywhere_ , else than here with so many strangers. Hinata's hand finds mine on the wood between us, twining our fingers together and anchoring me here. 

 

When the priest opens the podium for those who'd like to speak mom goes up first, a steel look on her face that I'm sure I've seen in the mirror before. A hush falls over the already silent room as everyone holds their breath, waiting for the widow to speak. I expect mom's voice to waver but instead it flows smooth and steady from her lips. 

 

"Life is full of singular chances," she starts, looking just over the crowd, not quite making eye contact with anyone. "Or at least, I used to think so. One chance at life, one chance at love, one chance to get everything right. But I've learned in the last few days that this isn't so. There's no singular chance at life, any moment having the potential to be your last until the prospect of dying seems obsolete. No one chance to get everything right because it's simply not an achievable goal. And definitely not a solitary chance at love; something that I'm still learning."

 

Mom pauses, finding my eyes in the crowd and smiling gently. "Toshiya was the love of my life. There's no doubt about that. And when he was taken from me I thought my one chance had been lost and my love expended, but I realized that even though he's gone he left me with the greatest gift I could ever receive; our son. He is my second chance at love; my second chance at happiness in a world that I thought had lost its warmth. Toshiya may have passed, but he'll never be gone, and I will continue to see him in every second chance I find, and I hope that all of you will remember him when you need a voice to tell you that it's okay to try again."

 

I'm stunned as she steps down and retakes her seat, Aunt Mayuri patting her knee even though she's completely calm. I thought my mother was weak, thought she was diminished by the incredible shadow cast by my dad, but she is anything but. I once compared her to a wind chime, but she is the wind; subtle and invisible yet carrying a power stronger than I can comprehend. 

 

When the priest asks if anyone else would like to speak Hinata squeezes my hand, lifting my knuckles to where they fit so perfectly between his lips before releasing it. I was nervous to speak in front of these people I hardly know yet share the same blood with only moments before, but now I can feel mom's determination coursing in my veins and I'm no longer afraid. I look at her when I speak, hoping that she'll see strength inside of me too. 

 

"My dad and I disagreed on a lot of things," I begin, pressing my palms flat against the wooden podium to keep them from moving. "Almost everything, actually, and I spent years believing that it was my fault. I spent most of my adult like thinking that if I was anyone but myself then my dad would love me, and he spent those same years trying to learn how to tell me that he loved me for who I was." Mom's lips quirk up at the corners and I allow mine to do the same, earning a few concerned looks from the crowd. 

 

"The most personal conversation I've had with my dad happened on his deathbed and I wish it was sooner because it taught me that we were so much more similar than I thought. In my mind we were oil and water but in reality we were cut from the same cloth, both held back from each other by the constant need to present nothing but our best selves and never feeling equipped to do so. The relationship we had was rough, and there are countless things I could change but I've realized I never would. He taught me to be content with my broken self, because spending your life trying to cater to others' expectations leads to nothing but pain." I feel as if I'm speaking to myself in his voice; like he is still teaching me as I say these words. 

 

"His greatest fear was to die feeling as if he was a bad father, but I hope that he can rest easy knowing that despite his flaws he was exactly the type of father I needed. The type that taught me to see perfection in imperfection, and to understand that it takes time to become the person you want to be, but there's nothing wrong with loving yourself along the way." 

 

As I step away from the podium I stop to run my hand over the smooth porcelain urn, hoping that he could hear everything I wanted to say, and allowing myself to imagine that it's warm against my fingers. 

 

Hinata takes my hand again when I sit down and Aunt Chiyo sniffles loudly next to me as she finishes her fifth tissue. No one else elects to speak so the priest leads us as we sing 'Amazing Grace', low and off key and the exact kind of cliché bullshit dad would have hated. This entire funeral has been weak and pathetic, and I know dad would only care about what mom and I had to say to him anyway. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

 

Mom makes her rounds to the various groups of strangers in the room after the priest shuffles out, and as Aunt Mayuri attempts to calm down a blubbering Aunt Chiyo I drag Hinata out of the stifling room. I know the two of them are going to come back to the house afterwards so I feel no obligation to wait around here, only stopping when we reach the car out front, pulling on the handle even though I know it's locked. 

 

"You okay?" Hinata asks, eyeing my shaking hands with concerned eyes. I'm not sure what's causing it, knowing that for once it's not nervousness or fear, so I just shrug. 

 

"Just tired, I think," I tell him, "or over stimulated. I didn't even know those people."

 

"They're your family," he signs, always the voice of reason to calm the frothing seas of thought in my head. "They may not know you very well but they aren't strangers."

 

I nod, not having the energy to argue that he's my family, he and mom and Suga and everyone else back home. For now I just take comfort in his words. "Distract me," I mumble, leaning against the car and stepping off of the curb so that he stands almost eye level with me. 

 

He thinks for a moment before smirking and signing, "You're really hot when you're giving speeches.” I can see that familiar devilish glint in his eyes as he uses the advantage of the extra few inches to stand on his tiptoes and press his hands to the window on either side of my head and lean towards my face. 

 

"Don't be stupid," I mutter, glaring despite the heat I feel on my face. 

 

"You make me stupid," he whispers, looking at me through his eyelashes before leaning in all the way and kissing me. I feel small, but in a good way, as if he's wrapping around me like a blanket. I rub my tongue lightly over his bottom lip and he seems to melt into me as he parts them. My hands find his feather soft hair, carefully pulling him closer as to not make him lose his footing on the curb. I wonder if I've gotten any better at this since he told me I sucked at it. 

 

"Ahem," Aunt Mayuri coughs behind us, laughing to herself as we pull apart with a conspicuous smooching sound. "You boys might want to cut that out before Chiyo sees you. I just got her calmed down."

 

"Uh, y-yeah," I stutter, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth and elbowing Hinata in the side as he tries to contain his laughter beside me. "Thanks, Aunt Mayuri."

 

"No problem, kiddo," she winks, looking behind her as mom and Aunt Chiyo walk out of the front doors followed by the rest of the funeral party. "We're all heading back to your house. Want to ride with me?" She pulls her keys out of her pocket with a smile and I nod, Hinata doing the same. 

 

Aunt Chiyo climbs in the passenger seat of mom's car and Hinata and I follow Aunt Mayuri to her beat up minivan across the street, yet another indicator that she should be a mother. Soft rock plays from the radio as we sit quietly for most of the ride, but she turns it down about halfway there. 

 

"Your speech was really beautiful, Tobio," she tells me, an odd seriousness in her eyes. "You know, your father and I didn't really get along when you were younger. He used to tell me that I was coddling you too much when I would encourage you, and I usually kept quiet about it so I wouldn't upset your mom but  _God_ , did he piss me off." I can't help but laugh at that, and she stops to look over at me and smile. 

 

"But I think you and I are very similar," she continues. "After a while I started to understand the way he thought, and though I didn't agree with it I respected it. And I guess it paid off because you've turned out to be a wonderful young man."

 

I don't know what to say; I'm terrible at accepting praise so I sit squirming in my seat, spitting out a quick, "thanks, Aunt Mayuri."

 

"Too bad you got the worst of the tempers from both sounds of the family," she chuckles, smiling to herself. "Mine and your dad's. The best of both worlds."

 

"At least I didn't get Aunt Chiyo's sensitivity," I joke, earning another laugh from her. She looks so much like mom when she smiles, her eyes crinkling in the same places and mouth stretching the same way, but it’s much more genuine and lacking the saccharine honey drip. 

 

"It's in you somewhere. Let’s just hope you don't get pregnant," she teases, and now I'm laughing. It feels foreign in my lungs but not unwelcome. 

 

"I don't plan on it."

 

We pull up to the house a few minutes after mom and Aunt Chiyo, parking in the driveway behind the other car. Walking into the house with Hinata by my side and a lightness to my chest that feels like a new beginning. It's as if everything leading up to now was the prologue to my life, preparing me and shaping me for phase two where I can actually start living. 

 

Everything around me shines with the freshness of spring rain, cleansed of the grime that had sullied it before. The future seems hopeful for once, and I'm ready to dive into it. 

 

***

 

Hinata and I sit and talk with mom and her sisters for a few hours, and I let it soothe me, this feeling of being completely in the open. Usually this vulnerability would make me feel like a deer out in a meadow waiting for the booming crack of a gunshot, but I feel safe. When Hinata's hand finds my knee casually during conversation I don't dodge it, and I don't shy away when I absentmindedly lay my arm across his shoulders. 

 

The sun is starting to set when we finally announce that it's time for us to head back home. If we stay any longer we wouldn't be home until sunrise, and I have work and an apartment waiting for me (assuming Oikawa hasn't ruined it yet; or worse,  _decorated_ ). 

 

Aunt Mayuri offers to drop us off at the train station, grabbing her keys from the table when we walk back into the living room with luggage in tow. 

 

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I ask mom for the hundredth time, and she rolls her eyes exactly the same as the first time. 

 

"I'll be fine, Tobi," she answers, grabbing my cheeks between her palms and looking me over as if she won't see me for the next decade. "Just make sure to call me, okay?" She stands up straight enough to throw her arms around my shoulders, lingering in the hug for just a second longer than would suggest she's really okay. 

 

"And you," she adds, letting go of me and turning to Hinata, putting a hand under his chin to lift his smiling face to hers. "Take care of him."

 

"Yes ma'am," he laughs, saluting her with one hand. His smile is infectious, and I watch it spread to her artificial dark lips before pulling him into a hug. 

 

Aunt Chiyo's loud sniffle as she pulls another tissue from her purse is our cue to leave, and this time when I walk out of the front door of this old creaking house with a suitcase in my hands it's with a sense of contentment in my heart instead of a vice digging metal teeth into my chest. 

 

I hum along to Aunt Mayuri's soft rock as the shadows on the street lengthen and disappear, casting a comforting blanket of shadow across the town until we reach the station. 

 

"You boys have a safe trip," she tells us as she parks in front of the gaudy fluorescent signs that cast garish neon light across her face. 

 

"Thanks," I mutter as Hinata waves brightly, wanting to say more but not exactly sure how. Hinata watches the way I shift my weight nervously between my feet and touches my arm gently, nodding before walking off to buy our tickets. 

 

"Tobio," she continues, pulling me back to her. There's a soft sort of reverence painted in her eyes and a distance in the way she gathers her words. "Keep that temper in check, alright? And be patient with yourself, even when you think you don't deserve it." For a moment I think I see a tear welling in the corner of her eye, and I get the feeling that she understands all too well the demons that lie dormant under my skin. 

 

"Yeah," I answer, letting my lips quirk up just a bit as I nod. "You too."

 

"Will do, kiddo," she beams, all traces of sentimentality gone as I shut the van door and wave one last time. She waits until I meet Hinata at the front door and we step inside to drive away. 

 

On the long ride home it's my turn to tell old stories; memories from before everything went to shit and eventually righted in the most inconvenient of ways. Hinata hangs on to my every word to the point that I start to feel bad as his eyes droop and his head nods every few minutes, just to jerk back up and resume laser focus on my face. 

 

I tell him about when my dad and I walked into that music store when I was eight years old and emerged with a mahogany beauty clutched between my small hands. I casually leave out the words he said to me after I clambered into the passenger seat that still linger in the back of my mind. 

 

I tell him about how mom used to set up play dates for me with the other neighborhood kids. She'd practically have to drag me kicking and screaming down the street and then smile pleasant enough for the both of us and I stood scowling at the door. I don't remember much from the actual play dates themselves except sitting around in the bedroom of a kid I barely knew the name of and wishing I was back home with my guitar instead as our mom's sat and talked over coffee and plastic laughs. 

 

He laughs when I tell him about my battles with grandma's cat, giggling as he kisses the thin white scars that still cover my right hand. 

 

His eyes light up when I mention the box in my closet where I found my old music. I pull out the select pages I brought with me and he pores over the lines intently, a crease between his eyebrows and his tongue poking slightly from the corner of his lips as he reads, even though I know nothing on the page makes sense to him. 

 

The stories stop once I tell him about meeting Suga and Oikawa in college, stepping lightly over the parts of that story that aren't mine to tell or are no longer something I want to remember. My memories aren't warm and bubbly like his were, with a tinge of golden light stretching spindly fingers across the corners, but for once I can remember them fondly. For once it doesn't hurt to look back. 

 

It's somewhere around 3am when we climb the dingy stairwell of our apartment building, that short morning hour where the world sleeps yet everything feels strangely alive and buzzing. We've only been gone a little over a week but coming home feels like returning from a journey, one where everything changed to the point where my home probably won't recognize me. I guess part of that is true. 

 

I hold our bags as Hinata pushes the key into his doorknob, the metal grinding bouncing off of the thin hallway walls, but he doesn't flinch the way I do. I hold out his bag when he turns back to me and he fixes me with that quizzical look he gets with his head cocked to the side. "Aren't you coming in?" 

 

His words are silent but they ring loudly in my head. I hadn't even thought about it, to be honest. I figured we'd return to our own beds with some clandestine exchange of goodnight kisses until we figure out what to tell everyone about us, but his idea sounds so much better. We have a few hours until anyone even needs to know we're home. 

 

I don't speak, just nod and carry the bags to the sofa, setting them down in a thin beam of light that peeks through the curtain. I've always loved how moonlight washes the color out of everything it touches; it soothes me. When Hinata steps into the light his hair only lightens a few shades, standing out even brighter juxtaposed with the paleness of his skin, and I figure I wouldn't have him any other way. He has always been the brightest color I see. 

 

He gestures for me to follow him and I oblige, grabbing his hand so he can lead me through the dark hall to his room. His bedroom here is not unlike his bedroom back home, and it takes my breath away in the exact same way when I walk in. The walls are covered with sketches, except this time there are no flowers, no animals, only people. Mostly Natsu and Kenma along with some Kuroo, Bo, and uncle Ittetsu; but along one wall, the one directly across from the moonlit window, is me. I'm there with a guitar sitting on my knee and one lanky arm laid over the front, I'm there with a bowl of cereal on my lap and a rigidity to my form. I'm there talking to Suga, and I can see every ounce of affection I have for him reflected in the graphite lines of my eyes. There's one of me giving my speech at Daichi and Suga's wedding, looking straight into my own eyes as I view it. And there I am, throwing clothes haphazardly into the suitcase I just sat down in the living room, a frightened scowl across my brow. The lines in this one are less defined, like the hand that created them was shaking. 

 

Hinata's hand lands on my shoulder blade, and I jump. "S-sorry," I stutter as I turn to him, taking a moment to take a breath I didn't know I was holding. "They just kind of...drew me in." 

 

"C'mon," he whispers, eyes darting over the wall with a look of reserved fondness. He tugs my arm and we crawl under the comforter on his bed, sliding down until it almost covers our heads. I open my arms for him to scoot in, and he moves closer until the only thing between our chests is his palms. 

 

He's quiet for a while and I figure he's gone to sleep until he shifts his head to look up at me. With a soft sort of smile he traces letters onto my ribs with one thin finger, leaving a trail of fire behind despite the chill from the night air against the window. 

 

**Tell me another story.**

 

I think for a moment, trying to drag up more happy memories to recount before settling on the perfect one. "Did I ever tell you the story of the bird that fell in love with the sun?"

 

He smiles and nods with a glint in his eyes as if to say "but you can tell it again". He settles in a little closer as I start, and I can feel his thumb tracing lazy circles on my chest. 

 

"There was a bird," I start, looking towards the foggy window but keeping my head positioned where Hinata can still read my words. "Every morning he'd wake up to watch the sunrise and fall asleep watching it set. He fell in love with the light and warmth more and more until he couldn't stand being apart from his love any longer. The bird flew up, higher and higher until he got close enough for the heat of the sun to scorch him."

 

Hinata shifts in my arms and I look down, watching as he turns to press his ear against my chest and close his eyes. I continue the story, letting him feel the vibrations of my voice as he drifts to sleep. "The sun, as it turns out, had fallen in love with the bird's song, so before his ashes could reach the ground he scooped them up and spread them in the sky, creating the stars."

 

I stop for a minute, and I'm sure Hinata is asleep by this point, but I keep talking. "I knew it from the moment I heard this story," I whisper, my voice too loud over the sound of soft exhales. "I knew that you were the sun, and I was the bird. Even if I didn't know that I loved you, and I definitely didn't know you loved me, I knew those words were meant for us. You've turned me to ashes, Hinata, burned me with the warmth of your skin and the fire from your lips. And it's incredible.  _You're_  incredible. You've turned me from a black crow chained to the earth into scattered light in the sky, and I love you so much for it. I love you more than I can even understand myself."

 

He sighs and sinks deeper against my chest, and I allow myself to melt into him, my eyelids starting to drag with every blink. As I drift off I do my best to commit everything about this moment to memory, not wanting a single detail to escape me. Not this feeling, this place, these thoughts; nothing. I want this to be the first and last thing I think of every day for the rest of my life, and I want him to be pressed against me exactly like this every time I remember, creating new stars in the sky with every breath he takes. 

 


	13. Giant Bunnies and Tiny Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said that we were close to the end here, and that's still true, but there are a few more loose ends to tie up than I thought so we're a little...less close to the end. Take that as you will.That being said, I'm still going to keep doing my best to work on this but it might not be over before I go back to school as previously expected.  
> I was going to add another scene to this chapter but I didn't want it to get to long and I figured I needed to post something so this chapter is mostly plotless! (sorry <3)  
> Once again you can listen to the fic playlist [here!](http://8tracks.com/ghostfox/scattered-light) (I will keep adding to it as the story progresses so you're all welcome to send me song suggestions if you want to!)   
> Also, happy new year! I hope everyone has a wonderful 2016!
> 
>  
> 
> Can you hear me calling  
> Out your name?  
> You know that I'm falling  
> And I don't know what to say  
> I'll speak a little louder  
> I'll even shout  
> You know that I'm proud  
> And I can't get the words out  
> Oh I...  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh I...  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> (Wanna be with you everywhere)
> 
> -Fleetwood Mac

The line between the world of sleep and waking is a thin one, semi permeable in the way that you can see through it if you venture close enough. Though it's fleeting, casting an unstable glimmer across the expanse of my dreams the moment I notice the way it lurks at the corners of every scene, and all too soon the line consumes me and I'm hyper aware of the pillow below my head and harsh light across my eyelids. It makes my nose itch. Or maybe that's caused by another unrelated factor. 

 

When I pull my eyes open I'm met with wide brown ones inches away and wild ginger hair tickling my nose as Hinata leans over me with a big stupid grin painted across his face. "Holy shit-," I gasp, sitting up instinctually as Hinata throws himself to the side, giggling like a maniac against the sheets. 

 

I reach behind me to grab a pillow to chuck at him. He sits up, fitting me with a puppy dog stare and a pouting bottom lip but I just scowl, refusing to give in. He can't win me over that easily. Actually he definitely can but I have to make him think he can’t.

 

"I'm sorry," he signs, failing at all attempts of sincerity as that devilish glint I know so well flashes in his eyes. 

 

"Yeah right. Don't fucking do that," I answer, clutching my shirt over my still rapidly beating heart. 

 

His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk, which accompanied by that look in his eyes is downright wicked. In one lightning fast motion he has one leg slung on either side of my lap and my shirt collar in both of his hands, face inches from mine as he whispers, "or what?".

 

"Or, uh...I-I'll," I stutter, my still foggy brain feeling like a key turning in a flooded engine as he leans in closer and closer. My head is swimming and I feel his eyelashes against my cheek as he blinks, moving so slowly it's almost painful. I settle my hands against his hips and tilt my head slightly as he slips his hands down flat against my shoulders and shoves me back against the sheets. 

 

"What the-," I gasp, head hitting the pillows and eyes blown wide. Did I miss something?

 

Hinata just cackles, still straddling my waist as he lifts his hands to sign, "You need a shower."

 

"That was cruel," I mutter, smiling despite myself as he climbs off of me and stands up. I rub my eyes and sit back up, glancing at the window as I yawn, the sun seeming too bright against the brick buildings across from us. "So do you, by the way. What time is it anyway?"

 

I turn to get his answer but he has his back to me, digging in his dresser for clean clothes. He shakes his head disapprovingly as he turns to find me still in bed. "Ever getting up, sleeping beauty?"

 

"Yeah, yeah. What time is it?" I repeat myself, throwing the blankets off of my legs and setting my feet on the carpet. 

 

"Around two I think," he answers, shrugging as he makes his way out into the hallway. 

 

"Hey!" I call, jumping up to follow him, catching him right as he grabs the bathroom door handle. "You, uh, going in there by... by yourself?" Real smooth Tobio. That'll charm him. 

 

"Yup," he answers, smirking at the heat that spreads across my face and down my neck. His words are hard to read as he tries to sign with clothes clutched in his hands. "What will Oikawa think if you come home freshly showered?"

 

He's right. Of course he's right. "Goddammit," I sigh. He smiles, standing on his tiptoes until I lean down and let him peck me quickly on the lips. 

 

"I'll be over in a bit, okay?"

 

"Yeah, sure," I answer, turning down the hall as he slips into the bathroom, already feeling colder without his presence. Begrudgingly I grab my suitcase from where we left it on the sofa, muttering to myself about how little Oikawa's opinions matter even though I know it's all bullshit. 

 

I still have my head down, off in my own world of imagining what I'm walking away from right now, as I step out into the hallway. There's a sound of a door closing before I pull the one behind me shut, and my blood runs cold. 

 

"Hoooooly shit." 

 

I know that voice. Oh god. Oh god  _no_. I look up; eyes connecting with Oikawa's across the hallway, a mix of surprise and complete elation hiding behind his irises. 

 

"Oh my god. Oikawa-," I start, my stomach twisting at the way a smile starts to stretch across his face. 

 

"Suga is going to shit himself," he says, and I feel myself blanch. 

 

"Oikawa, don't you dare."

 

"See you later, Tobio," he waves, staring at me for another millisecond before breaking into a full sprint down the hallway. 

 

"Fuck," I spit, taking off after him and leaving my suitcase on the threshold of Hinata's still open apartment door. "Get your ass back here Oikawa!"

 

He's already two flights below me when I reach the stairwell, and I do my best to catch up without tripping and falling to my death, screaming like a madman the entire time about how much I'm going to kill him when I catch him. I doubt he understands how real my threats are because all he does is laugh and sing "Shouyou and Tobio sitting in a tree" between breaths, the rhythm uneven and bouncy as he hops down each stair. 

 

I'm dripping sweat when I reach the bottom and he's already out the door. "Shit," I wheeze, bursting outside and realizing that I've already lost. Oikawa has a goddamn car and I had lost before this begun. 

 

He rolls down the window as he starts the engine, sliding sunglasses on over his smug face and ignoring the sweat that beads down from his hairline. "Toodles, Tobio," he singsongs, waving before pulling away from the curb. 

 

All I can do is stand doubled over on the curb and pant for breath, watching as he drives away, and  _seething_. "I'm gonna fucking kill him I swear to god he's fucking dead," I say to myself, loud enough to catch the attention of adults and children passing me on the sidewalk. He turns the corner and I run back into the building, lungs burning and screaming against my ribs as I take the steps three at a time. This is more exercise than I've done since having to run a mile every two weeks in high school. 

 

Without thinking I head back into Hinata's apartment and push the bathroom door open. He looks up with wide eyes as he finishes tying a towel around his waist, startled at the sudden intrusion and probably worried about why I look like a big red heaving sweaty mess. 

 

"Kage-,"

 

"We have to leave," I interrupt. We don't have time for this. We don't even have time for me to pay attention to the fact that he's only wearing a towel (another thing I’m going to think about while punching Oikawa in his stupid goddamn face). 

 

"Hey, breathe for a second. What are you talking about?" He asks, taking his hands off of his towel which luckily (unluckily?) holds its place on his narrow hips. 

 

I take one deep breath, my lungs singing at the entrance of oxygen, before launching into my story. "I ran into Oikawa in the hallway and he's on his way to Suga's and I tried to catch him but he has a car and he's gonna tell Suga and then Suga's gonna come here and nag me and I'm gonna fucking kill Oikawa but right now we have to get out of here. Let's go to Osaka and start a new life where no one knows us and-,"

 

He cuts me off by standing on his tiptoes to put his hand over my mouth. It's warm, still wet from the shower and smelling like soap. He gives me a pointed look as if to say "are you going to stay quiet?" To which I nod before he steps back. 

 

"I have no idea what you're saying when you talk that fast," he signs, concern still in his eyes but overshadowed by amusement. Why is he amused? This is extremely serious. "Try again. Slower this time."

 

"I ran into Oikawa in the hall and he's running to tell Suga and I think we should leave town forever," I tell him, being careful to articulate every word so I won't have to repeat myself again. 

 

"Kageyma we aren't leaving town so you can get out of talking to Suga," he laughs, pausing his sentence to readjust his towel that was starting to slip. "You just need to calm down."

 

He's right, of course, and I hate that. I already had Suga for that and now I have two know-it-alls that I'll never get rid of. Not that I want to. "But what are we going to tell him?" I ask, letting my shoulders slump. 

 

He thinks for a minute before shooting me a soft smile. "Why don't you jump in the shower because now you're extra gross and then we'll talk about it? We can even leave if you want to. Not to Osaka, but maybe to somewhere that serves lunch. Okay?"

 

I drag one hand down my face but it just slides against my sweat slick skin and I nod. "Yeah, alright." He grabs his clothes and heads into his room as I collect my suitcase from the front door and step back into the bathroom. 

 

Talk about what? About us or about what kind of excuse we’re going to make up? I try to let the hot water calm me, and my muscles start to relax, but my mind still races. 

 

I have so many questions, but only one certainty sits in my head. Oikawa Tooru is fucking dead to me. 

 

***

 

It occurs to me halfway to the cafe, with Hinata bouncing along beside me seemingly unperturbed, that I'm an idiot. Not for the normal reasons, which are definitely still relevant, but for something else entirely. I could have avoided this entire situation if I hadn't panicked. I could've told Oikawa any number of lies and he'd have no choice but to believe me. 

 

"Hey we just got home and I carried Hinata's bag in for him."

"I just stepped in to grab something I forgot here last week."

"Hinata wanted to show me some huge spider in his kitchen and it was disgusting so I was just on my way out."

 

All good enough excuses that I could've used to at least  _pretend_ nothing was going on. Now everyone is going to squeeze information out of us that we don't even have. 

 

Hinata pushes my shoulder lightly with his fist and I turn to see him looking up at me, a mix of worry and amusement on his face. "You're going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that," he signs, and I frown harder in retaliation. 

 

"I have to brood," I tell him, shoving my hands in my sweater pockets with precise petulance. "If  don’t all of my hate builds up and gives me a stomachache."

 

"Have it your way," he shrugs, smirking above his hands. "But you should know that I'm only here for your looks. As soon as those are gone I'm out of here."

 

"Then you're definitely on the losing end of this situation," I chuckle, feeling slightly better. Still filled with rage of course, just pushing it back until I have something (Oikawa's face) to direct it towards. 

 

"I wouldn't be too sure," he smiles, reaching down to grab my hand after he finishes talking. My cheeks burn as he threads his fingers with mine, ignoring the looks from passerby whether judging or kind, and my heart quickens its pace. I want to say something back, something sweet or romantic (yeah right, that would take a miracle), but he faces forward again and I let it go. 

 

We sit at the usual table when we reach the cafe, both of us ordering the biggest sandwich on the menu. I didn't realize I was so hungry until we sat down and my stomach started to growl violently at the familiar smell of coffee and pastries. 

 

The air is stiff as I try to figure out what I want to say, but Hinata just stares out the window. I don't see how he can be so calm, which only makes me start to believe that I'm freaking out for no reason, which obviously makes me freak out more. I tap on the table to get his attention, losing my train of thought as he turns to me with the clear afternoon sky reflecting in his eyes.

 

"So, uh," I mutter, trying to concentrate on the reason we came here.

 

"So?" He cocks his head to the side, which just muddles my head even more. I shake it to clear my thoughts, ignoring the way he blows air through his nose as light laughter. 

 

"So," I continue, looking up to meet his eyes again and steeling myself to stay on topic. "What are we going to tell Suga and the others?"

 

"About what?"

 

"About us."

 

"What about us?" I can tell he's trying hard not to laugh, and I'd be annoyed if I didn't want to grab his stupid face and kiss it so badly. How can he look so good even when he's being so annoying?

 

"About what we are," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I already want to go back to bed. 

 

"What are we?" He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to hold back his playful smile but I can see right through it. 

 

"Oh my god, Hinata," I whine, smacking myself on the forehead and probably leaving a mark. "You've gotta help me out here! I've never done this before and I'm kind of losing my mind."

 

The tall blond barista I've seen here a few times brings our sandwiches to the table, a scowl not unlike mine painted on his features. Hinata immediately shoves half of the sandwich in his mouth, biting off a chunk bigger than humanly possible and filling his cheeks like a hamster. I poke at the bread with my fingertips, my stomach doing flips and not sure if I'm still hungry. 

 

"Done what?" He asks, and I barely catch the movement out of my peripheral vision, looking up just in time to catch his words. "Dated?"

 

My cheeks flare up again and I'm starting to think this is a real problem I need to get under control. "Well, yeah," I answer, almost whispering as I look up at him, wondering if he thinks that's pathetic. "Have you?"

 

He thinks for a minute, chewing his sandwich slowly, making my mind race even more. Oh god, how many were there? Is he some sort of pro at this already? "Does Kenma count?" He asks, turning back to me and signing before picking up his sandwich for another bite. 

 

"You dated Kenma!?" A few people turn in their seats to look at me, wondering where the outburst came from. I sink lower in my seat and Hinata just laughs. 

 

"For like a week back in high school," he tells me, waving it off like its nothing. "Then we realized it was silly and went back to being friends."

 

I drop my head onto the table with a loud smack and a groan. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. I just can't bring myself to get my shit together and ask him a clear question. 

 

He's still looking at me when I sit back up, an odd look to his eyes as he pops the last bite of sandwich in his mouth. I drop my chin onto my hand and he sighs, shaking his head as if he's a mother and I'm his petulant child he doesn't know what to do with. "You don't have to keep skirting around it you know. Just go ahead and say it."

 

"Say what?" I ask, and now I'm the one keeping the conversation from progressing. We've accomplished literally nothing since we got here. 

 

"Boyfriend," he says out loud, wiggling his eyebrows and dragging out the 'oi' sound. 

 

"Oh god," I grimace, running one hand down my burning face. This relationship only has room for one child and I've already filled that role. "Fine, fine," I say, gritting my teeth and trying to keep my eyes from nervously darting away. "Are you...are we...dating?"

 

"Are we  _what_?" He asks, mockingly cupping a hand to his ear and trying to hold back his smug smile. 

 

"Boyfriends," I growl, glaring at him across the table but I doubt it carries the weight I mean it to. 

 

"Well I sure hope so," he winks, and I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time again. It's a very conflicting emotion. "I don't let just  _anyone_  see me in a towel."

 

"That's it. I'm breaking up with you," I say, grabbing my sandwich and taking a bite to cover up the way my cheeks start to stretch. I can't let him win like this.

 

"Wow, we lasted less than a minute," he signs, shaking his head in mock pity. "What a shame."

 

I try to glare at him but I just start laughing, unable to hold it in. I let go, wrapping one arm around my middle and just letting it happen because  _I'm dating Hinata Shouyou._  I canhonestly say I never thought this would happen, and actually having it be official, having it be  _real_ , is like nothing I've ever felt before. The air in my lungs feels free as it escapes, mingling in the air with the sounds that are now coming from Hinata. I've never been this happy. 

 

Hinata stops laughing and I look up, watching through my teary eyes as his face goes oddly serious. "Incoming," he mutters, and I turn to see Suga walking toward us. 

 

"Oh god here it comes," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as I send a silent prayer to any entity that exists to let this go well or to at least strike me with lightening. I always figured that would be a really cool and painless way to go. 

 

"I knew I'd find you here," he huffs, sliding onto the bench seat beside Hinata without a thought. "Hey Hinata," he smiles before turning to me, his smile immediately dropping, "why haven't you answered your phone?"

 

"I must've left it at home," I shrug, taking another bite of sandwich and hoping that will keep him from asking any more questions. 

 

"You know I hate it when you do that, Kageyama," he chides, and I roll my eyes. "It makes me worry. I had to hear from Oikawa that you were home! And then I got to your place and you weren't there and you know how I panic," he sighs. I continue chewing my sandwich slowly, glancing at Hinata as we wait for the shoe to drop. "Anyway, I came to talk to you because of Oikawa."

 

There it is. 

 

Hinata looks away from Suga's face and turns to me, eyes wide as he waits for my response. I shoot him my best "what do we do?" look, and he gestures to me with one hand, leaving the decision up to me. Might as well get this over with. 

 

"Look, Suga, we haven't told anyone yet. Hell we just talked about it ourselves," I start, Hinata giving me an encouraging thumbs up from beside Suga. 

 

"Talked about what? Wait, what are you talking about?" Suga looks at me questioningly, and I start to think we aren't exactly on the same page. 

 

"What are  _you_  talking about?" I return. 

 

"I came here because, wait, who talked about  _what_? You and Hinata?" He turns to Hinata who just shrugs, eyes wide as he tries to follow what we're saying. 

 

"Yeah. You came here because Oikawa ran and told you we were dating, right?" I realize the moment it leaves my mouth and Suga's eyes blow wider than I've ever seen them that I've made a mistake. 

 

"What!? You're  _DATING_?" 

 

"Did...did Oikawa not tell you that?" I mumble, mentally kicking myself so hard I can actually feel my own imaginary shoe hitting my ass. 

 

"No! He told me you looked upset when you came home and wanted to talk to me. But dating!? That's wonderful!" He turns back to Hinata who still has a confused look on his face and hugs him tightly, bright hair mixing with fiery ginger as he squeezes him. 

 

"That goddamn bastard," I growl, sitting up straighter and leaning forward on my elbows, burying my face in my hands. "I can't believe this. He fucking set me up."

 

"I can't believe this," Suga gushes, mirroring my words but not my malice. "This is so great, you guys! Since when? What happened? Who confessed?" He's talking a mile a minute and warning bells start to sound in my head. I've known Suga long enough to know that tears are on their way. 

 

Hinata reaches across the table and lays his hand against my arm, smiling as I look up. Suga continues babbling about how proud he is of me and how he knew we were perfect for each other and a host of other ridiculous things, moisture threatening at the corners of his eyes and catching in the back of his throat. 

 

"Come on," I say suddenly, standing up and bumping the table loudly with my knee. Anyone who wasn't already staring at our table because of Suga's loud questioning turns to me and I try my best to glare. "Let's go to your place. I'm going to murder Oikawa."

 

***

 

My fingers itch as the three of us reach Suga's apartment complex, and the cold metal of his doorknob feels incredible as I grip it and turn. I hear Oikawa and Daichi talking in the living room and I let the rage boiling inside me propel me through the entryway, pushing the sleeve of my sweater up with my left hand, but my progression stops as a small hand grabs me from behind. I turn, and Hinata shakes his head, melting away all of my malicious intent. Dammit. I guess that bastard can keep his stupid pretty face for another day. 

 

I still storm into the living room with a sour look on my face, channeling all of my anger to one chair in particular. "You goddamned-,"

 

"Woah, where's the fire?" Someone asks behind me, the voice taking a moment to register, and Oikawa raises his eyebrows at me as I turn around. 

 

"Kuroo?" Suga says as he rounds the corner into the living room. "And Bokuto and Kenma! Daichi didn't tell me you guys were coming over. I would've picked up some snacks."

 

"We didn't know we were coming either," Kuroo replies, absentmindedly playing with Kenma's hair from where he sits on the floor in front of his legs. "We stopped by because Kags and Hinata are back in town."

 

"Daichi already gave us snacks anyway," Bokuto mumbles through a mouthful of chips, holding up the bag to show Suga. 

 

"How did you know we were back?" Hinata asks from where he stands to my side, seemingly as surprised as I am to find all of our friends here waiting for us. 

 

Kenma holds his phone out to show us a Facebook post from Oikawa about two hours ago. 

 

**Oikawa Tooru-**

**The boys are back in town! Come stop by for catch up and chill @ the casa de lovebirds**

 

"What're you so mad at Oikawa for?" Bokuto asks, wiping chip crumbs from the front of his shirt. 

 

"Yeah Tobio," Oikawa smirks, playing dumb. "What  _are_  you so mad at me for?"

 

"This is the worst day of my life," I whine, dropping cross legged onto the floor in the worst display of a tantrum from a grown man I've ever seen. I even cross my arms over my chest. Hinata takes a seat between Kenma and me, leaning over to see what phone game is keeping him busy. I have no idea how he can be so unaffected by this blatant yet not uncharacteristic betrayal. 

 

"Oh, Oikawa, you leave them alone," Suga starts, and we're immediately doomed. "Hinata and Kageyama will tell you the news when they're ready." 

 

"News? There's news? Is it something good?" Bo asks, turning excitedly to look at Daichi, who eyes Suga suspiciously, and Oikawa, who's still pretending to be blissfully unaware. 

 

Kenma looks up from his phone and over to Hinata whose brows knit together when he realizes everyone is looking between the two of us with wide eyes and sealed lips. Kuroo's gaze worries me the most; I can almost see the gears turning in his head and reflecting in his dark catlike eyes. 

 

The room is deadly quiet, the silence only breaking when I swallow thickly, feeling the scrape of my Adam’s apple against the walls of my throat like the blaring trumpets of the elephant in the room. 

 

"Well it's about damn time you two," Kuroo beams, leaning forward to ruffle Hinata's hair, who’s still lost but smiles anyway as Daichi chuckles and even Kenma smiles a bit. I groan and fall back onto the carpet; throwing one arm over my eyes and hoping to disappear or to sink through the floor or to be abducted by aliens or  _something_. 

 

"Oh no, did I give it away?" Suga drops onto the sofa next to Daichi, covering his mouth with one hand as he looks between Kuroo and me, shocked that his subtle words were actually not so subtle. (Yeah right he's not stupid he did this on purpose I swear it. He and Oikawa were probably in on it together all along.)

 

"Give what away? What's going on?" Bokuto sits up straighter, tucking his legs beneath him as he looks around the room cluelessly. 

 

"Come on, Bo. News about Kags and Hinata? Think about it. We've been expecting it for months now," Kuroo prods, everyone watching curiously as Bokuto tries to work it out. 

 

"Oh sweet lord let this end," I mutter, sitting back up and tucking my knees under my chin. Hinata grabs my hand and smiles at me, melting away a little bit of the crippling embarrassment pounding in my brain. Maybe letting all of our friends know isn't such a bad thing; at least I can hold his hand without hiding it. 

 

"Bro, it could be literally anything," Bokuto retorts, throwing his hands up as he turns to Hinata and I. "Wait a second....oh. OH! BRO IT HAPPENED!" He jumps up, pointing at our twined fingers, eyes blown wider than I thought humanly possible as everyone else (except me of course) bursts into laughter. 

 

"Like I said," Kuroo smirks, his hand returning to Kenma's hair as he quietly giggles. "It's about damn time."

 

"I don't know about you guys but this is a  _complete_  surprise to me," Oikawa singsongs, pressing one hand to his chest. "I had absolutely  _no_  idea this was coming."

 

"Shut up, Oikawa," Daichi barks, leaning forward from where he has his arm draped across Suga's shoulder to see him better and I immediately like him even more. "You've given Kageyama a hard enough time already. His head is going to catch fire if you don't lay off."

 

Oikawa just shrugs, letting out a little "humph" before leaning back in his seat and letting the self-righteous smirk drop from his face. 

 

"I think it's great," Daichi continues, and I start to take back what I just said about him. I was hoping he'd be the one to change the subject. "Maybe Hinata can mellow you out a little, Kageyama."

 

"Gee, thanks," I grumble, squeezing Hinata's fingers in my own because his warmth is the only thing keeping me from literally screaming. 

 

"They're just having fun," he whispers to me, and I guess he's right. At least everyone seems accepting of it. 

 

"If he gives you any trouble, little bro, you come straight to me," Bokuto chimes, raising one eyebrow at me in an attempt to be menacing, gesturing to his chest with his thumb. "I'll take care of it."

 

"Nah, Hinata's the tougher one," Kuroo says, shaking his head at Bokuto's empty threats. "We don't have anything to be worried about."

 

"Alright, alright, that's enough of that," Suga interjects, hushing everyone before Bokuto can try to defend Hinata's honor anymore. "Everyone knows now so we can just let it be."

 

"Actually," Hinata says, dropping my hand to sign. "Natsu still doesn't know, and I'd rather tell her myself."

 

I translate for Oikawa, Suga, and Daichi who still haven't quite gotten the hang of the sign language thing, and my heart sinks again. I thought the worst of it was over but I was so wrong. Natsu is definitely going to be the worst one to deal with. 

 

Everyone nods in agreement, promising to keep their mouths shut until Hinata gives them the okay. Why couldn't they do that for me?

 

The conversation drifts to something else and I tune out, letting myself breathe for a moment now that the attention isn't on the two of us. This endeavor was completely humiliating but in a good way. Having everything (mostly) out in the open is so liberating. I'm not hiding anymore; I'm out in the open with no camouflage with Hinata by my side and there are so rifle sights trained on our chests. 

 

Maybe I'm not as broken and alone as I always thought I was. Maybe I never was. I don't shy away when he leans his head against my shoulder, and I let it remind me of all the cracks in my heart that he's filled with his liquid warmth. The sound of my friends talking and joking around me fills my ears, and I let it show me how surrounded I am by walls made of support and companionship. 

 

My soul is calm for the first time in a long time, and I let it teach me that nothing is concrete no matter how much I accepted it, and that I can never deal in absolutes when it comes to something I barely understand. My own heart is something I don't think I'll ever figure out; but he just might. 

 

He just might solve all of my puzzles. 

 

***

 

Wednesday starts out as the greatest day I've had in the last week and half. As I sit hunched over a bowl of cereal before heading to work, eyes bleary as I scroll through my email with one hand, Oikawa strolls into the kitchen and sets his cell phone down on the table. 

 

"Guess what, Tobio," he singsongs, clapping his hands together. "I just got off the phone with the landlord of the building down the street. It looks like you'll finally be getting rid of me as early as next week."

 

He drops next to me on the sofa and takes a loud bite from an apple as I just stare at him blankly, afraid that if I speak the wonderful dream I'm having will shatter around me. "Are you serious? You're not fucking with me right?"

 

"Nope. I applied for an apartment over there a few weeks ago but I was waiting to tell you in case I didn't get it." He seems genuine, but I still feel like I need to pinch myself for good measure. 

 

"Oh my god, Oikawa, this is amazing," I blurt, suddenly wide awake and beaming. I swear the sun through my curtains shines a little brighter. "You can finally get all of your stupid alien toys off of my shelf. It's like Christmas morning in April."

 

He watches me for a moment and then starts to laugh in a way that makes me think it's not because of something I said. "April fools, Tobio!" 

 

I can literally feel my heart settle in the pit of my stomach. "Are you fucking serious?"

 

"I was just joking," he says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. I'm too defeated to be angry. "I can actually move in tomorrow."

 

"Oikawa I swear, you better not be lying this time," I tell him, not daring to let my hopes rise again and unsure of how I'll react if this still turns out to be a prank. We're already on thin ice from the shit he pulled yesterday. 

 

"Not at all," he smiles, and I dare to believe him. "I'm going to start packing in a bit and I'll be on my way out before you get home from work tomorrow."

 

I stand up and shut my laptop, swallowing the last bit of milk in my bowl and setting it in the sink. "I'm leaving before you can change your mind again," I announce, grabbing my keys and phone and shoving them in my pocket. "No take backs."

 

I slip through the front door and shut it behind me before he can respond. As I start down the hallway I consider checking in on Hinata but I figure he's still sleeping since he hasn't responded to my good morning text. I'd still be asleep too if I didn't have morning classes to teach, that eight hour train ride still messing with my circadian rhythm. 

 

I get to work early, having left in such a hurry, and I decide to drop into Ukai's office before my classes start. I had emailed him when I left and again to let him know I'd be returning today, but I doubt he's expecting to see my face this soon. I feel good, though, great even, and  _proactive_  for once. I feel upbeat and in charge of my life, everything around me sharp and clear instead of murky and it's honestly amazing. Who knew that a death in the family, some good making out, and getting teased by all of your friends could have such great effects? 

 

Ukai isn't in yet when I get to his office so I just lean against the wall by his door, somewhere between thinking that I'm glad to be back and wondering if there's something wrong with me. There's a spring in my step and a bounce in my heart and I have no idea what to do about it. 

 

"Well I'll be damned," comes Ukai's gravelly voice as he rounds the corner and sees me, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips despite the strict no smoking rules he enforces inside the building. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd come see me without me having to threaten you first."

 

"Good morning to you too," I say, chuckling lightly. He unlocks the door and holds it open for me, shooting a curious look my way from under pinched eyebrows. The office is dark and musty, smelling of stale smoke as usual. It's comfortingly familiar as I take my usual seat in front of his desk, the thick air knowing exactly where it fits as it enters my lungs. 

 

"So what brings you here?" Ukai asks, dropping his bag on top of the desk and snuffing his cigarette in the already full tray sitting on the edge. He immediately pulls another from

his front pocket and lights it. "I thought I'd have to go track you down after your intermediate violin class."

 

"Just wanted to talk to you about a few things," I answer, watching him take his seat opposite me with almost as bad posture as my own, that curious look still in his eyes. "Mostly about Yamaguchi. I saw his email about callbacks right before I...went out of town. I haven't really had a chance to call him."

 

"Don't worry about that," he says, waving my words away, "I let him know what was going on and he understood. He took your callback message for you and the meetings are supposed to start the week after next so you should go see him soon."

 

"Yeah," I nod, silently thanking him and everyone else for being so patient with me. I don't know what I did to gather all of these wonderful people around me. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that too. I brought something to show you."

 

He lifts one thick eyebrow and sits forward, stamping out his cigarette but not yet reaching for another. "Well I hope it's something good."

 

"So do I," I mutter, rifling through the disorganized mess in my bag until I find the papers I'm looking for. "I, uh, found these in my closet at my parent’s house. There was a whole box of stuff I wrote as a kid but these are the only ones I saw real potential in. I was thinking of using them for callbacks."

 

Laying the old sheet music out on the table, with faded graphite smudges and crinkled edges yellowed from years of being sealed away, feels like lying exposed on an operating table. I'm not scared to share my work anymore like I used to be, but it's still tough to expose my myself that way, in the most raw form of my thoughts and emotions I can think of. As I watch him pick them up I can almost feel his fingers writhing underneath my skin. 

 

He's quiet for a few minutes as he looks them over, poring over each sheet multiple times before setting them back down. I raise my eyebrows as if to say a tentative "well?" and he just lets a whistling breath out between his lips before plugging the sound with a fresh cigarette. "They're definitely rough," he starts, and I nod, accepting the criticism instead of breaking down like I usually would. "But it's definitely a solid foundation. I think you could make something really great out of this. Damn, how old were you when you wrote these, Kageyama?"

 

"I don't know," I shrug, trying to remember the days I sat alone in my room with a pencil in hand and a guitar pick in the other but they all sort of blur together. "Eleven or twelve, maybe. You really think these could work though?"

 

"Yeah definitely," he beams, flicking his ashes with a delicately practiced movement. "If you tweak them a little and add a twist of your current style I think they'd be really great. You should definitely show them to Yamaguchi when you go see him."

 

"Hopefully I'll have more to show him than some papers," I say, eyeing the clock and standing up, the chair squeaking underneath me. "I'd better get going; my first class starts in ten minutes. Thank, boss." 

 

"Thanks for stopping by," he returns, reaching out to shake my hand before I step towards the door. 

 

"Oh, and Kageyama," he calls, and I turn back to look at him, brows knitting at the way he smirks, or maybe it's just a genuine smile; something I haven't seen on his lips too often. "You look good, kid."

 

"I feel good," I admit, and I can feel a tug at the corners of my lips as I say it. I duck out before the conversation can progress, not wanting it to get any sappier and realizing I'm going to be late for my class. 

 

I never truly realized how many people were looking out for me while I was too blind and stupid to look out for myself. I'm starting to realize how cared for I am, and how lucky I am to have it. It's all I can do now to make them see how much they've done, how much they've accomplished in this twisted and cracked path I've been on, never seeing them slightly off to the side of me along for every step. 

 

Speaking with my dad made me realize that it didn't matter how hard I tried to make him proud because he already was. Everyone else looking out for me may feel the same, like their pride is unconditional and I already have it, but that won't stop me from trying to earn it. 

 

I want to be the best version of myself as I can be; not for me but for them. For Suga, for Ukai, for Hinata and everyone else. I want to show them that I deserve their love; that the person I can become is so much better than the one they already know and accept. 

 

It's a lofty goal, but I think that with everything I've lost and everything I've gained, I might just be able to pull it off. 

 

***

 

If someone had asked me a year ago what my version of happiness was my answer would be something along the lines of being alone with an instrument and a strong cup of coffee, somewhere just out of the reach of time or social interaction. But now, a few months later, my answer would be exactly how I am now, with Hinata's legs across my lap as he lays on my couch, a comic book held high above his face and a pillow on top of his thighs as a makeshift table while I work on my new song (and all of Oikawa’s useless stuff moved out of my apartment). 

 

This is happiness. This soft sunlight and lazy morning contentedness is my joy now, and I never would have believed anyone who had told me it would happen. Sometimes I still think I'm in a dream; everything just a little too perfect with the way golden light borders all of my days. 

 

That is, until it's shattered by a knock at the door and two unmistakable voices carrying through the thin walls. Maybe if I ignore them they'll go away. 

 

After about a minute and a half of silence I start to believe they've given up, until Hinata's phone vibrates from its place on his chest. Dammit. I almost won. 

 

"Kenma said open the door," Hinata says, holding his phone out for me to see the texts. 

 

"Tell them it's open," I grumble, not wanting him to move his legs and definitely not wanting to get up. I can already feel a headache forming as I hear the door open and footsteps move down the hallway. 

 

"Merry Easter!" Bokuto calls out around a mouthful of what I think is jelly beans, dropping a plastic bag full of candy onto my table with a shit eating grin. 

 

"It's  _happy_  Easter, Bo," Kuroo chuckles, stepping up behind him and sitting down another bag filled with sodas and juice boxes. "Merry only works for Christmas."

 

"Hey, Shouyou," Kenma mutters. Hinata returns his greeting by lifting his head so Kenma can sit down on the sofa and replacing it on his lap. I still haven't put much thought towards what Hinata told me about the two of them dating back in high school but I've been around them enough to know there's not a threat. Not that I'm worried about it.

 

"What the fuck is Easter?" I ask, eyeing the bags on my table suspiciously as Bokuto takes the recliner seat and Kuroo pulls over my desk chair. 

 

"Some Christian holiday I read about online a few years ago," Kuroo shrugs, pulling a soda from the bag and sitting back. "Bo gets really into it."

 

"You just get to eat candy and pet bunnies," Bokuto adds, pouring more jelly beans into his mouth from the box in his hand. "It's my favorite holiday."

 

"Now I have even more questions."

 

Kuroo rolls his eyes, leaning forward again to pull a bag of mini chocolate bars from the bag and tossing them at me. "Just eat some candy, bro."

 

I sigh, unwrapping a few mini chocolates and popping them in my mouth. I guess Easter isn't too bad. I offer some candy to Hinata, who's still engrossed in his comic, and try to focus back on my work; a task which proves difficult when Bokuto strikes up a conversation about bunny eggs. 

 

"But, bro, I just don't understand where the eggs come from," he admits, blinking owlishly at his friend who's visibly holding back a smirk. 

 

"Bo, do we need to have a little talk?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on it with his elbow. "You see, when a momma chicken and a daddy chicken-,"

 

"No, bro, please I know that part," Bo interrupts, shaking his head. "I mean how does the giant bunny man get the eggs? Are they bunny eggs? Bunnies don't have eggs, Kuroo. Does he steal them from the chickens?" He looks so concerned I almost feel bad for him. 

 

"Giant bunny man? What kind of scary ass holiday is this?" I ask, letting out a resigned sigh as I give up getting any work done. How can I write music when I'm learning about giant bunny men and stolen eggs. 

 

"There's this guy called the Easter bunny and he hides eggs in your yard when you're sleeping," Kuroo explains as if this is common knowledge that everyone knowingly accepts. 

 

"What the, why?" Kuroo just shrugs, opening a pack of licorice as Bokuto types something furiously on his phone before holding it out to me. Typed in the Google images search bar is 'Easter bunny', and under it is various images of terrifying man-sized rabbits holding children and baskets of brightly colored eggs. The children are all either beaming or sobbing; there is no in between. 

 

"I don't want anything to do with any of that," I shudder, holding up one hand to shield my eyes from the screen. I don't need that in my nightmares. 

 

"But I still don't know if they're chicken eggs or bunny eggs," Bokuto pouts, glancing back at his phone with a frown before shutting off the screen. 

 

"Bunnies can't lay eggs, bro. They have to be from some kind of bird," Kuroo continues, shoving as many long strings of licorice into his mouth as he can fit. 

 

"So the bunny man is a thief?" The look in Bokuto's eyes mirrors the betrayal on Luke Skywalker's face when Darth Vader tells him he's his father (Hinata made me watch all of the Star Wars movies once).

 

"You didn't really think he was a great guy when his entire job is _sneaking into people's yards while they're asleep_ , did you?" I ask incredulously. These idiots never cease to amaze me. Hinata shifts as he finishes his comic, tossing it beside my abandoned music sheets on the table and looking between Kuroo, Bokuto, and I, to try and join the conversation. I can see the immediate confusion and regret manifest in his eyes. 

 

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Bokuto mumbles, taking another mouthful of jelly beans with noticeably less enthusiasm than before. 

 

The front door opens again and I listen as small footsteps make their way toward the living room, Natsu sticking her head around the corner and beaming. "Happy Easter!" Of course she's in on this too; she's known these losers long enough that it’s probably considered torture. 

 

"Easter is a lie, lil sis," Bokuto tells her, and I actually start to worry if he'll be okay. "We've been living a lie this entire time."

 

"I'm not even going to ask," she sighs, hands perched on her hips as she looks over the mess already scattered on my table. 

 

"Wait, where'd you come from?" I ask, barely realizing that she just popped into my living room out of nowhere. 

 

"Home, stupid," she sneers, ushering Hinata to sit up so she can settle on the cushion between him and Kenma. 

 

"Yeah, but how'd you know everyone was over here? And you didn't even knock."

 

"I told her," Kenma chimes, not breaking eye contact from whatever he's doing on his phone. 

 

"And I didn't knock because I knew you wouldn't get up to answer the door anyway," she says, leaning forward to stick her tongue out at me but smiling fondly. 

 

Kuroo starts to fill Natsu in on what's upsetting Bokuto and I try to tune out, having heard enough talk of egg thieves for one day. Hinata joins in, taking advantage of Kuroo's quick recap to catch up. He signs something about the eggs actually being made of chocolate which, of course, restarts the entire discussion. 

 

"I'm gonna go grab some water," I mutter, swallowing thickly over the dryness in my throat from the handful of mini candy bars I had. Hinata turns and smiles up at me when I stand, and without thinking I lean down and press a chaste kiss to his forehead, realizing my mistake while my lips are still against his warm skin. 

 

He goes rigid, the room falling quiet, all eyes on the two of us but only one pair mattering, and I let out a quick "oh, shit."

 

"Oh my god," she whispers, and no one breathes. Bokuto stops chewing. Kuroo's ever present smirk vanishes. Kenma sits his phone down. "Did you just, OH MY GOD!" Natsu practically leaps up onto her knees on the couch cushion, throwing her arms around her brother's neck, who still has his back to her and eyes locked with mine. 

 

My heart is beating so fast I'm sure everyone can hear it. I don't think I've ever been this frozen with fear in my life but Hinata's expression changes from shock to a soft smile, and I let myself calm down a little. I stand back as he unwraps her arms and turns around to face her, lifting his hands to speak. 

 

"I guess we have something to tell you," he signs as she practically bounces up and down with excitement. That must run in the family. 

 

"I knew it! I knew this would happen!" She jumps off of the couch and runs over to pull me into a bone crushing hug, her face pressing into my chest. Hinata shrugs at me from behind her. 

 

"I didn't even say anything," he signs, shaking his head but smiling wide. We figured she'd take it well but not this well. 

 

"I have to call Uncle Itettsu!" She gushes, letting go of my and speeding over to her bag she left by the entryway, digging inside for her cell phone. "And Yachi, and Kiyoko, and Mom! Wait....," she pauses, turning around slowly and eyeing everyone else in the room, barely realizing that they're just staring at her silently. "Why aren't you guys freaking out?"

 

"Because we already-,"

 

"Congrats guys!" Kuroo shouts, launching himself at Bokuto and shoving his hand over his mouth. "Wow this is a surprise. Can't say I didn't see it coming though." He winks at Hinata and I, but Natsu doesn't buy it. 

 

"You all knew, didn't you?" She asks, standing up and crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "How long?"

 

Kuroo doesn't move, eyes wider than I've ever seen them, hand still clamped over a terrified Bokuto's mouth. I can't see Hinata's face but I'm sure it's just as afraid as mine. No one answers her question, all of us digging our own graves deeper as we shudder under the gaze of a tiny fifteen year old girl. 

 

"Kenma," she growls, turning to her silent friend where he still sits on the sofa, knees pulled to his chest. I'm pretty sure he's the only person in the room she wouldn't injure. "How long?"

 

"What day is today?" 

 

"Sunday."

 

"Five days," he answers, quiet voice carrying through the room and echoing off the walls. 

 

"I can't believe this," she mutters. "I'm the last to know? I'm your sister, Shouyou! You should've told me first!"

 

"It's not their fault," Bokuto pipes up, pulling free of Kuroo's grasp. "We made them tell us."

 

"Shut it, Bo," Natsu snaps, and he flinches. 

 

"Yes ma'am."

 

"Natsu," Hinata says, speaking up to grab her attentions despite the silence around us. He waits for a second before lifting his hands, gathering his thoughts. "I asked them not to tell you. I wanted to do it myself."

 

"Well you could've told me yourself  _five days ago_ ," she scoffs, seemingly unconvinced. 

 

"He wanted to do it right," I say, surprising myself with the sound of my own voice. Where is this coming from? "You were the most important person we had to tell. We didn't want to mess it up, but I guess we already have. We didn’t mean to upset you." I reach down and put one hand on Hinata's shoulder, squeezing it as he turns to look up at me with a small smile meant only for my eyes. 

 

"D-dammit, Kageyama," she chokes, sudden tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. "You can't say things like that while I'm angry." She uncrosses her arms and strides forward to throw them back around her brother. She reaches up to fist her hand in my shirt and pulls me down, trying her best to form a makeshift group hug. 

 

"I'm still mad at you idiots," she mutters, and I try to ignore the fact that Hinata can't hear her and this is probably aimed at me. "But I guess I forgive you for now."

 

"Dog pile!" Bokuto shouts, launching at us with a booming laugh and somehow reaching around all three of us. 

 

Kuroo follows him (only after trying to convince Kenma to join as well), ruffling my and Hinata's hair with a grin. "Welcome to the family, lil bro," he winks, and I never would've thought I'd want to be part of a family with these two idiots, but  _God_ , do I. I need this like blood in my veins. 

 

Bokuto lets go first, the hug dissolving shortly after he leans back but no one returning to their seats, staying in an awkward close circle between the edge of the sofa and the coffee table. "Lil sis?"

 

"Hmm?" Natsu hums, wiping what's left of her angry tears with the side of her tiny hand. 

 

"Please never yell again," he says, oddly serious. "You're terrifying."

 

 


	14. Sing To Me My Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can listen to the playlist for this fic [here!](http://8tracks.com/ghostfox/scattered-light)  
> I am still open to song suggestions!
> 
>  
> 
> You belong among the wildflowers  
> You belong somewhere close to me  
> Far away from your trouble and worry  
> You belong somewhere you feel free  
> You belong somewhere you feel free
> 
> -Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

It's funny how you never know how incredible it feels to fall asleep with someone wrapped in your arms until they're there, so close to your skin that to separate would be like removing a limb, and you decide that you can never return to sleeping alone under empty sheets and lonely dreams. One little thing; one invisible exhale against my collarbone as sleep sits just on the edge of my vision, one quick tug of my shirt in the middle of the night as he pulls me closer, as if there  _was_  a closer, one lock of hair falling across his forehead in the moonlight when there is no color but only two hearts beating in the pale glow; and I am hooked. I'm addicted to something I spent my whole life without and never felt the need to have. I guess "it only takes one time" is true about every intoxicating substance. 

 I've slept next to Hinata before but it had never felt the way it did that Sunday night, my head still swimming the next morning in the afterglow of love, coming down from my high. 

 "Hey!" Hinata's voice, so much bigger than himself when he wants it to be, pulls me to the surface. He's standing at my stove, a spatula in one hand and the other on his hip as he tries to get my attention. This has happened before, I think, remembering a morning not unlike this one that feels as if it happened in a separate lifetime. Oh how far we've come. 

 "Yeah?" He shakes his head at me, his eyes betraying his affection, and lifts his hands to repeat himself for what I'm sure is the third or fourth time. 

 "How many pieces of toast do you want?" The sleeve of his shirt falls down his scrawny arm and as he pushes it up I realize that it isn't his shirt at all. When did he manage to steal my clothes? I can't complain, it looks better on him than it ever could on me, falling well past the waist and exposing a good amount of smooth pale skin between his neck and shoulder. 

 "Two," I answer, and he nods, apparently satisfied as I pull an almost empty jar of jam from the door of my fridge (and some milk because damn am I thirsty). Minutes later we're both sat at the table in the living room, steaming plates of eggs and toast in front of us. 

 Hinata, as it turns out, is a great cook, and I am thoroughly convinced that the scrambled eggs I'm chewing on are the most perfect eggs ever to be cooked; and I'm not just saying that because my boyfriend cooked them. 

 Boyfriend. It still feels odd to say; that Hinata Shouyou is my  _boyfriend_. That I  _have_  a boyfriend in the first place. 

 "So what's your schedule today?" Said boyfriend asks, the movements of his hands barely catching my peripheral vision in time to read them. He has jam on the corner of his mouth, a swipe of color across his stuffed cheeks, and I leave it there. It reminds me of paint, though I'm sure it tastes much better. 

 "My classes are over around three, but I need to record my new song before I go see Yamaguchi this week so I'll probably be a few hours later than that," I tell him, shoving another forkful of eggs in my mouth. This sure beats cereal. "How about you?"

 "I don't know yet," he answers, pausing to wipe at his cheek and looking surprised when his fingers come away sticky. He just licks them and continues. "I'm all caught up on commissions right now, which is what I usually do on weekdays. Maybe I'll clean or something. Natsu will like that."

 He frowns visibly over the word "clean", and I don't blame him. Both of our apartments would be considerably dirtier if not for the fear of disappointing our respective caregivers; aka Natsu and Suga. I never really gave much thought to when he found time to complete the art commissions he uses as disposable income, most everything else he needs paid by Uncle Ittetsu. 

 "Why don't you come with me?" I ask, the words spilling out before the idea even finishes forming in my mind.

 He cocks his head to the side, that familiar questioning look in his eyes as he slows his chewing. "To work?"

 "Y-yeah," I stammer, "why not?" The thought starts to gain momentum in my mind, unable to find any good reasons against it. Why not? 

 "Are you sure that's okay?" He asks, trying to be tentative but I can see the flame of excitement light behind his irises. 

 "Definitely. We'll leave early and talk to my boss. He's a cranky old asshole; you'll love him." He nods, shoveling the last few bites of egg and toast into his mouth before hopping up and grabbing my plate, setting them both in the sink before I can stop him. 

 "Hey! I wasn't finished," I call after him, but he's already down the hall and in my room, the sound of metal hangers against wood reaching me as he rifles through my closet, probably looking for a sweater that won't look like a dress on him. 

 My knees creak as I stand up from the floor, my cheeks aching from the huge stupid smile on my face as I follow him. There's a sense of oneness to everything now, highlighted as I watch him pull clothes from my closet, measuring them against himself before tossing them behind him onto my bed. The idea of these things being mine; my clothes, my bed, my room, feels less defined in this moment, the words _our_ clothes, _our_ bed, _our_ room, filling the sentences with much more substance. 

 It's about thirty minutes before I manage to get Hinata out the door; one of my long sleeved shirts hanging low on his shoulder and tied in a knot at the waist and a bag full of "supplies" slung over his shoulder. 

 I've always loved walking to work in the mornings, just early enough that no one else is on the street and the sun is barely settling into its place above the horizon. It's the quick inhale the earth takes before starting its day, the exact type of comforting aloneness I've been accustomed to. But now, with Hinata walking by my side, his fingers entwined with mine as he swings our arms lightly between us, I realize that I want to share all of my quiet secrets with him. I want him to be a part of all of my lonely moments and silent dreams. 

 That beloved silence is interrupted by a loud wolf whistle, and I look up to find Oikawa leaning precariously out of the window of his new apartment. "Good morning, boys," he trills, wiggling his fingers and probably his eyebrows. 

 I try to ignore him and pull Hinata along but he stops to see what's caught my attention, smiling and waving up toward Oikawa's open window. "Morning!" He calls, wrapping the hand that isn't in mine around his mouth to carry the sound. 

 "I hope you fall," I growl, praying it's loud enough for him to hear before flipping him off and continuing on our way. If I have to see him every morning I'm going to change jobs this afternoon. 

 I lead us straight to Ukai's office when we get to the rec center, knocking lightly on his open door before walking in. 

 "Well what do we have here?" He smirks, ashes falling from the lit end of his cigarette with each word. 

 "I came to introduce you to someone," I tell him, stepping to the side as Hinata waves sheepishly from behind me. "This is my neighbor, Hinata. He's going to spend the day here, if that's no problem."

 Ukai raises one eyebrow at me, taking one long drag from his cigarette before leaning his head back to exhale toward the ceiling. "And?"

 And? And what? I open my mouth to answer before I realize what he means, my cheeks flaring up despite myself. "He's my neighbor and my boyfriend," I mumble. I’m not ashamed or anything, I just wasn’t planning on having to announce our relationship immediately.

 "Hah!" He shouts, sitting up in his chair suddenly, eyes going wide as a smile spreads on his face. "I knew it!"

 "Knew what?" Hinata whispers, tugging lightly on my sleeve. 

 "I knew something big happened! That was you, kid?" He asks, peering over at Hinata. "You're the one that knocked this grumpy brat on his ass?"

 "Yes sir!" He laughs, the apprehension melting from his face as he realizes Ukai isn't as scary as he looks. He raises his hands to sign, "It’s nice to meet you!", still beaming. 

 I translate and Ukai just nods, standing up and walking toward us. "Nice to meet you too, kid," he beams, putting one hand tenderly on Hinata's shoulder as he uses the other to roughly pat my back. "Take care of him, okay? He was a train wreck before you came along."

 Hinata nods and Ukai smiles, softer this time, with less teeth and more warmth in his eyes. 

 "Alright alright, we have to go. Class time," I announce, ushering Hinata out of the office before Ukai can elaborate on just how hopeless I used to be. "See you later."

 I introduce Hinata in every class I have that day as to avoid unwanted questions while I'm teaching, feeling like a kindergartner at show and tell, presenting his most prized possession. Hinata eats it up, smiling brightly for all of my students; a haphazard grouping of teenagers, old men, and house wives trying their best to gain a new skill or just to occupy their time. 

 He sits off to the side of the circle of chairs in the center of the room, a sketchbook from his "supply" bag balanced on his knee as he focuses on the movements of his fingers, his tongue poking out between his lips when he erases. Paying attention to what I'm teaching proves to be difficult with him there, drawing my eyes his way with almost every movement. 

 Somehow I make it to the end of the day, and Hinata and I grab some snacks and sodas from the vending machine before heading to the recording studio. Hinata's eyes light up as we walk in, his fingers hovering lightly over the panels of buttons and the equipment lined up against each wall. 

 I start to boot up the computer, logging into my account and setting up the recording software when I hear "Kageyama, look!" behind me. The chair creaks as I swivel, finding Hinata with a microphone muff pressed under his nose like a walrus mustache. 

 "This is professional equipment," I tell him, trying but failing to hide my amusement. 

 "Everything in here is so cool," he signs, stepping closer to me and (thankfully) away from the expensive mics. "It reminds me of a space ship or something. You know how to use all of this?"

 "More or less," I shrug, trying to hide the way his words make me feel kind of cool. 

 He spends the next ten minutes pointing out different buttons and pieces of equipment, asking me what each of them does and beaming when I give him as answer (I only make a few of them up). 

 "You're so smart," he tells me after he starts to ask about buttons I've already explained, leaning in close to where I still sit in the oversized computer chair, actual computer long forgotten. Without warning he climbs on my lap, legs folded on either side of me on the cushioned leather, looking down at me through half lidded eyes. "I love you."

 I try to answer but he cuts me off with a kiss that tastes like Cheetos and apple juice. His hands are in my hair and I rest mine on either side of his narrow hips, leaning up and into the kiss, trying to gain the control that he refuses to relinquish. 

 There's a primal sound in the base of my throat when he slips his tongue between my parted lips, and I'm sure he can feel the way it vibrates, but all too soon he pulls away. I'm breathless as he leans his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck and smiling. 

 "I didn't know you were so into sound equipment," I smirk, trying to look calm despite the quick rise and fall of my chest and pink tinge I can feel to my cheeks. "I can teach you all about some instruments too if you keep paying me like that."

 There's a gruff cough from somewhere behind Hinata, and I know who it is without even looking. I stand suddenly, Hinata slipping off of my lap as I stick out one hand to keep him from hitting the ground and ignoring the most likely angry look he gives me. "Ukai! Uh, hi! How are you, boss?"

 "I'm good," he smirks, and I feel as if I could vomit at any second, "looks like you're doing a bit better though."

 Hinata steps behind me when he sees Ukai in the doorway, huddling his frame until he's almost completely hidden. "I guess you could say that," I mumble. 

 "Getting a lot of work done?"

 "Not yet. I was just about to start."

 There's an uncomfortable silence for a few moments that seem to stretch on for minutes as I sit under his gaze wishing I could disappear or puke or both. "Well," he continues, "I'm heading home so make sure you lock up when you leave."

 "Yes, sir," I say, barely a whisper, my eyes still focused on the ground. 

 "And Kageyama," he adds, and I have to practically drag my eyes up to meet his extremely amused gaze. "Take a breath, kid. You look like your head is going to explode." I nod, but I don't actually do as he says until the door clicks into place behind him. 

 Hinata laughs when he steps out from behind me, grabbing my sleeve and  trying to pick up where we left off but I refuse. Eventually he gives up, plopping down in the chair and crossing his arms as I take my guitar behind the soundproof glass and start actually working. 

 He watches as a play, and eventually I see him pull his sketchpad back out but I try my best to immerse myself in the song. After about two hours I finish, waking a droopy eyed Hinata up from where he's curled up on the leather chair. 

 "Ready to go home?"

 He nods, sitting up and stretching his arms high above his head. "Are we allowed to make out there?" His signs are slow, his mind still groggy. 

 "Of course," I answer, taking his hand as we make our way out of the studio and towards the front doors, the fluorescent lights oddly eerie above the darkened windows of early evening. "But if Ukai shows up there too I think we should break up."

***

 Yamaguchi's office is so much different than Ukai's; and it's not just the difference in the buildings, or the addition of a proper reception and plush chairs that makes it that way. The atmosphere is different, smelling of the fresh reams of paper stacked in copy machines and the waxy leaves of ficus plants that are real and not at all plastic (I checked) that stand in the corners, instead of stale cigarette smoke and well worn leather. It's brighter, with those basic landscape paintings you find in doctor's offices hanging on the too white walls, unlike the heavy curtains Ukai always has shut except for when he decides to let his smoke flow through the cracked widow. 

 Yamaguchi's office is much more inviting, much friendlier, but I'd choose Ukai's in a heartbeat. Everything here has an air of artificiality, and I'm used to something raw and real. 

 "Mr. Kageyama?" The small framed woman at the reception desk calls me, pulling me back down from my thoughts. "You can go in now."

 "Thank you," I mumble, standing and stepping towards the hallway. 

 The hall stretches on for a while, with multiple doors on either side, and the receptionist must notice my hesitation because she adds, "second door to the right, sir." I thank her again before heading to the door she told me, and I take a deep breath before twisting the knob. 

 "Kageyama!" Yamaguchi's bright voice hits my ears as soon as the door is open. "I'm so glad you could finally make it! Sorry for the wait, I had a phone call."

 He stands to offer me his hand across the table, smiling with teeth as brilliant white as the walls. I shake it and we both sit. "Oh it was no trouble, sir."

 "Oh no. No sirs here," he chuckles, waving away my formalities like a small bug in the air. "Please, Yamaguchi is perfectly fine. So what can I do for you today?"

 "I wanted to show you a piece I'm working on for my callback appointment," I explain, pulling the recorded CD from my otherwise empty bag. 

 "Wonderful!" He claps, eyes practically igniting against his pale freckled face. "You have no idea how much I've been dying to hear more from you!"

 "I'll try not to disappoint," I say, a bit of that old fear trying to crawl its way into my throat as I hand over the disk, but I push it down. Its claws no longer have a hold in my flesh. I have no time for fear anymore. "It's a bit of a twist on something I wrote as a kid."

 "How interesting," Yamaguchi nods, sliding the CD into his computer, eagerness dripping from his fingertips. "So it's sort of an ode to your origins? Hey, that would make a great band name. I'm writing that down."

 And he does, scribbling on a scrap of paper as everything loads, my foot tapping nervously against the leg of my chair. Some habits die hard. "I guess so."

 The song starts slow, and Yamaguchi focuses his eyes on the far wall as he listens, tapping his pen against his chin absentmindedly. I listen for mistakes in the beat even though I made sure there were none, the notes continuing on smoothly with the type of confidence I try to exude. 

 I think Yamaguchi is wrong; calling this song an ode to my origins, because I think it is so much more than that. This song is a mixture of past and present; a younger version of myself meeting the man I try to be, who I am working to become with each waking breath. 

 It's so much more than an origin story; it's a hope for the future and a belief in change. It's transformation from one extreme to the other and everything that came along the way. 

 I didn't change the notes on the paper I found in my mother's house. I simply added to them, leaving the musical skeleton I built intact and just layering substance against the bones. And I did that on purpose, because I wanted this to be a reflection of who I am; and I would not be who I am without the twisting path that brought me here. 

 I didn't want this piece _just_ to show who I was or who I want to be. I wanted it to show who I have been along the way, every bump included. Some things hurt to remember, but I cannot afford to forget. 

 "You've blown me away again, Kageyama," Yamaguchi sighs when the track ends, a soft reverence to his gaze. "That was absolutely beautiful."

 "Will it work for callbacks?" I ask, the air of the office suddenly fresh in my lungs. "Is it the type of thing they'll be looking for?"

 "Oh yes! I think this will work just fine," he beams, ejecting the disk and returning it to me. "It felt very personal. I can tell this piece means a lot to you. I can almost hear your heart beating amongst the chords. You have a real talent."

 "Thank you," I say, blushing lightly. "That means a lot." 

 "Keishin was right about you."

 "What?" I have no idea what he means, and I try my best to keep my thoughts from starting to run wild before he starts to explain what he means. 

 "When I first met you, after you showed me your work and left, I told Keishin I wasn't sure if you were ready for the type of future you could achieve. You had the talent, definitely, but I didn't think you were ready to share these parts of yourself on a large scale. I sensed a hesitation in you I wasn't sure I could fix, but Keishin told me to give you space and you'd grow. He said he couldn’t explain it, but he knew you were right on the cusp of where you needed to be. And he was right." He smiles again, but this time it seems like an odd mix of almost paternal pride and respect. "I have no doubt now that you're ready."

 "I don't know what to say," I mumble, caught off guard by his words. 

 "You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know," he tells me. "Anyway, I hope you’ll start to think about what you want from your future and where you want to go. You don’t need an answer right now, but it’s a good idea to put some time aside to figure it out. I'll be in touch with you in a few days with your appointment time. Thank you so much for coming by today."

 "No problem," I reply, shaking his outstretched hand again as I stand and pull my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for everything."

 He waves as I turn to leave, but as I step through the doorway he calls out, "Kageyama!" And I spin back around. 

 "Does your piece have a name?"

 Without even thinking about it I nod, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. "The bird and the sun."

***

 One place I vowed I’d never return to is high school, but then again there are a lot of promises I made to myself that I’ve broken in the span of a few months so I guess this isn’t a surprise. I swear the brick face building in front of me laughs as Hinata pulls me along to the courtyard behind the school, following the flow of parents and other students looking for their friends. He ducks and weaves, slipping between people with ease as he drags me along, not realizing that we are not the same size and not giving me enough time to apologize to the people I bump into.

Natsu had mentioned last weekend that her school was having a cultural festival this week and she wanted us all to come, and I had completely forgotten until I woke up to a fully dressed Hinata throwing a pair of jeans at my face this morning. She had sent a text asking us to meet her by a candy apple booth, failing to tell us exactly where that was, but Hinata was determined to find it. He had been almost uncontrollably excited on the train ride to his hometown, bouncing on his seat and making me tired just from looking at him, and that energy had not died down in the slightest.

“Hinata!” I call, obviously to no avail, as he shows no signs of slowing down, so I drum against the back of his hand with my fingertips. He turns, and I let go of his hand to sign. “Where are we going?”

“The candy apple stand,” he answers, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind and forgotten our objective in the last five minutes.

“Where is that?”

“I don’t know. This way?’ He signs, pointing vaguely to the left of us and I have to reach out and grab his shirt collar to stop him from taking off again.

“Why don’t we call your sister and ask for directions?” I say, taking out my phone as he shrugs and crosses his arms, begrudgingly admitting defeat.

I find Natsu’s contact name and click it, lifting the phone to my ear as I hear “There you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” from across the crowd, two small girls appearing as if from nowhere in front of us, wearing matching frilly dresses with long ribbons holding back their pigtails.

“Come on, everyone else is already here” Natsu says, grabbing Hinata and I both by the hand and heading back the way she came. “We’re already late. You’re going to miss it.”

“Miss what?” I ask, the presence of the crowd starting to encroach around me and leaving an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Neither girl answers, and having no choice but to follow them makes me start to wonder what my life has come to when I no longer doubt the authority of high schoolers’.

They lead us between the rows of food booths and over to where most of the performance clubs have set up near an outdoor stage, and I catch a glance of Kuroo and Bokuto standing in the middle of a ring of other girls dressed in the same outfit as Natsu. Kenma stands close behind them, nodding whenever one of the girls asks for verification on whatever ridiculous story the other two are telling. Bokuto gestures wildly with a candy apple in one hand and the group of girls laugh in unison.

“So that’s when Kenma walks in and he’s like, ‘how did you manage to get peanut butter on the ceiling?’, and then I’m all like ‘you obviously don’t know how to make pancakes’,” Kuroo recounts, and the group laughs again.

“Don’t listen to a word he says, guys,” Natsu warns as we stop in front of the group, all of them turning to face her with amusement still twinkling in their eyes. “We have work to do,” she claps, and they all nod. Apparently Natsu is in charge of not only us but her school friends too.

“Are these more of your friends?” One of the girls asks, raising her hand as if she’s in the classroom.

“Nope, these are my brothers,” she answers, and I try my best to look as if my heart did not just stop beating. She called me her brother. Natsu called me her brother and _I am not going to cry in front these kids_. “You two can go over there with the others,” she tells us, gesturing to where Kuroo, Bo, and Kenma stand.

“Hey bro, did you get a candy apple?” Bokuto asks when we manage to wade through the crowd of girls.

“No. Where is the candy apple stand anyway? Natsu said that’s where she would be but I haven’t even _seen_ one,” I exclaim, looking around but still not seeing the booth anywhere.

“It was over there somewhere,” Kenma chimes in, pointing off to the side without looking up from his phone and I’m thoroughly convinced that no one actually knows where anything is here. They’re all just pretending not to be lost. Hinata drifts over to Kenma and I lean against one of the fold out tables, shoulders slumping as I let out a long breath. Everyone is moving so fast and I feel like I’m in the middle of a construction zone. It’s exhausting.

“Welcome to Karasuno High School’s cultural festival!”

Natsu’s voice booms behind us, and we all whip around to see that the group of girls are no longer there, standing instead on the outdoor stage with the other performance clubs and waving as a crowd starts to gather. Hinata appears back at my side, beaming as he pulls me by my sleeve closer to the stage before too many people stand in front of us.

“The performing arts clubs have some great acts to put on for you this afternoon,” she continues, gesturing to each group behind her as she introduces them, stopping to let enthusiastic parent’s clap when they see their children.

“Do they usually let first years announce everything?” I ask, repeating myself a few times since it takes so much effort to catch Hinata’s attention.

He shakes his head no, eyes full of pride as he signs, “No not usually, but Natsu said she was the only person in student council willing to do it. You know how authoritative she can be.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” I sigh, but he’s already turned back to his sister, and I follow suit. She might be power hungry and sassy, but it’s really hard not to love Natsu. I find myself beaming and cheering right along with the rest of the group as she strides across the stage with a confidence I could never achieve. She is radiant, every bit the burning flame I coined her as in my mind, and I’ve never felt prouder to be called someone’s brother.

She announces her own club, some sort of dancing club, and the girls take their places in a careful formation, not a single matching ribbon out of place. Hinata buzzes with excitement as they wait for the music to start, but nothing happens. Natsu doesn’t lose her poise, remaining completely calm even when a boy shyly steps on stage to tell her there’s a problem.

Hinata turns to me, concern painted on his face as he asks me what’s wrong. “They’re saying something is wrong with the music,” I tell him, doing my best to hear what the boy is saying over the din of the crowd. “Something about the PA system being fine but the music just isn’t playing.”

“If they need music then maybe you should go up there and help them,” he signs, smiling encouragingly and cocking his head to the side in that way that makes his bangs sweep across his forehead and my heart skip a beat. But it’s definitely not enough to make me agree with him.

“That’s not going to happen,” I reply, shaking my head. He just rolls his eyes and sighs, a softness to his expression despite himself, and turns back to the stage just in time to see Natsu saunter over to us and crouch down.

“Psst, Kageyama come here,” she whispers, waving me forward, leaning down farther when I approach. “Do you know how to use a synthesizer?”

“Yes,’ I answer tentatively, knowing too well that she and her brother often think alike. “Why?”

“Do you think you could pretty pretty please do us a favor? We’re kind of in a sticky situation.”

“No.”

“Kageyamaaaaa,” she pleads, clapping her hands together to beg. “It’ll only be a few minutes!”

“Why don’t you just do the dance without the music?” I counter, knowing full well that it’s an awful suggestion.

“We can’t! Come on, big brother! I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she cries, and although I’m fully aware she’s using the ‘brother’ thing to her advantage it gets me. I am a weak man.

“Fine,” I growl. “But you better think of something good.”

Hinata turns to me, a huge stupid grin plastered on his face as he grabs my arm for support and stands on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek, whispering “thank you” before pulling away. He pushes me toward the stage as I continue to pout, pretending that my heart isn’t doing cartwheels after being assaulted on two different fronts by ginger angels.

“Sorry for the delay, folks!” Natsu apologizes to the audience as I climb the side steps, my heart racing as pairs of eyes in the crowd start to drift my way. “We’re having some technical difficulties with the music but my wonderfully talented and kind brother is going to step in for us! Let’s hear a round of applause for Kageyama!”

The crowd cheers, along with most of the students to the side and behind the stage, getting louder when a boy carries a dusty old synthesizer over to me. I can feel my pulse in my ears, blood pumping in my veins like a viscous gulp for air as I turn my back to the swarm of eyes I can feel crawling up my back.

“Here you go, sir,” the boy with the synthesizer says, handing me a stack of music sheets. “This is what you’re playing. It’s not too difficult. I guess it’s a good thing I had these printed out just in case anything went wrong.”

I wonder for a moment why Natsu couldn’t have this kid step in for her if he’s so familiar with the piece and the equipment, but I have no time to think with everything moving so quickly and her voice barely registering in my mind as she gathers her dancers back in formation. The boy backs off stage, signaling to me from when to start before disappearing entirely.

I completely let go when I begin to play, tuning out every other sound and immersing myself in the notes sitting in front of me, knowing that it’s the only way I can make it through. The crowd and the performance are just background, and I will my mind to relax enough until I am alone on that stage, nothing but myself and the stark white keys of my instrument, the fear of failure, the fear of being on stage, melting away like the rigid ice around my muscles.

But amongst the chaos, amongst the freezing and thawing of my heart, the rush of adrenaline and the overload of norepinephrine, I realize something; I do not belong in this atmosphere. Performing is not something I enjoy, and though having an instrument in my hands and chords flowing from my fingertips is my natural habitat, being on a stage is not. 

Yamaguchi advised I put time aside to figure out what I want to do with my future, and I thought that was a silly thing to do since I already knew the answer; I want to play music. But I see now that the answer is much more convoluted than I originally realized. Yes, I want to create for the rest of my life, I want to write and play songs until my fingers can no longer press down a string or grip a pencil, but _how_ do I want to do it? What outlet do I want to utilize? Obviously I don’t want to perform, as I have just discovered, but what does that leave? Composing? Directing? Teaching? There are so many options, so many various dreams I could achieve, and absolutely no way of knowing which is the best.

I look up for the first time as the song comes to an end, my mind still racing and my heart still pounding but for completely different reasons than moments before, and I see him. Hinata, standing at the front of the cheering crowd, their eyes focused on the performance but his trained on me, engrossed in the sounds that I love and he cannot hear. His head bobs along to a beat that isn’t present, and I have never been so overcome with sadness and an overwhelming sense of adoration at the same time.

I don’t know what my future holds; hell, I don’t know what _tomorrow_ holds, but looking at him, at the way he is trying so hard for my sake, I just might have an idea of what it can become.

When the song ends I practically bolt from the stage, Natsu barely having enough time to thank me before I am free from the spotlight and as far away from the crowd as possible. When Hinata finds me I’m leaning against one of the empty walls of the school building, the fresh uncluttered air filling my lungs.

“Hey,” he says, worry apparent in his small voice and knit together eyebrows, but it disappears when I grab his face between my palms and kiss him, frantic as if he’s going somewhere when I know he isn’t. Out of the few things in this world that I know for certain the fact that Hinata Shouyou belongs by my side is the one I believe in the strongest.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away with that dazed happy look he gets in his eyes when I catch him off guard like this.

“Great,” I answer, dropping my hands from his face to his waist and pulling him closer. “But please never let me do that again.”

He nods, laughing as he leans into me, placing his ear against my chest. I always wonder if he can feel what my heart is saying when he does this; if the beating is a melody that he can tune into, but I’ve never stopped to ask. Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe, sometimes, not knowing is the best option. 

***

By the end of the day I still never got a candy apple, and the claw marks in my throat from my brief time on stage didn’t start to fade until we got home; but Yamaguchi called with my callback appointment time and I got to make out with Hinata behind his old high school so I’d consider the day a wash. I used to consider days in which one bad thing happened, no matter how small, to be a loss, but lately I’ve started to scale things differently. The world isn’t so much black and white in my mind anymore, and it’s still not exactly color, but the shades bleed together somewhere in the middle. I look at each day now, after the sun is long gone and we’re in those hours between sleep and dawn when time is progressing but nothing is truly changing, and decide whether it was a good day or not based on how I feel in that moment. More often than not I have good days now, but maybe that’s just because it’s impossible not to when the person you love is wrapped in your arms.

“Ready?” Hinata’s voice pulls me back to reality as he reaches over the center console of the car to squeeze my knee. Daichi let us borrow his Mini Cooper to drive downtown where the callbacks are being held in the same concert hall as before; graciously offering it after Oikawa suggested he could drop us off. I’m not sure if I give that guy enough credit, he truly is amazing.

“Yeah,” I answer, patting his hand where it rests against my slacks (I decided not to show up completely underdressed again) and shooting him a wan smile. There’s concern in his eyes, but there’s also excitement and hopefulness; like every emotion I should be feeling is being held inside him instead. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what I’m feeling right now, but it’s not nervousness. The best I can explain it is empty, like my heart refuses to beat until everything is over and I am able to feel freely.

We slip out of the car and I open the back to pull out my guitar case, holding it with on one side and Hinata’s hand on the other. Holding hands has become such a reflex that most of the time I don’t even notice I’m doing it, his fingers fitting so perfectly between my own that they’re basically just an extension my arm.

There are far fewer people sitting in the velvet seats this time around, and far more important looking people in suits sitting near the front, talking amongst themselves. According to Yamaguchi there were three separate appointment times, meaning there were only about thirty people who made it to the second stage out of the near one hundred and fifty who auditioned.

One fifth. Twenty percent. I should be proud, I think.

There’s still some time before we’re meant to start and most of the musicians sit quietly or fiddle with their instruments under the dim house lights. Hinata and I sit near the back and he smiles as I point out various musicians I remember, recounting how wonderfully they played or how moved I was by their pieces and what small things I noticed about their styles.

“You’re so beautiful when you talk about what you love,” he says, his hands moving so quickly that I’m not sure if he actually wants me to read them. “Your eyes light up like stars and you smile. Not a full smile, just a little curl at the corner of your mouth.”

“S-stop it,” I stutter, completely caught off guard and unable to cover it up. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“But you’re cute when you blush,” he counters, giggling as he leans over to kiss my burning cheek. I’m always surprised by how much evil is concentrated in his small body. He leans back and smirks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Tell me about your song.”

It’s a distraction, and I take it. “It’s based on some of that stuff I found I my room that I showed you on the train,” I tell him, earning an excited nod. “Yamaguchi said it’s like a tribute to the past, but I don’t think so. I see it more as the story of how I got where I am. How I go here with you.”

He leans his head against the plush velvet back of the chair, turned completely sideways to face me, smiling as he watches my lips move. “Last time I was here I pretended I was playing for you,” I admit, realizing I never told him about how he saved my ass that day. “And I know it doesn’t really make sense, but I always feel better when I picture you listening.”

“I’m always listening,” he says, and I still have no idea how he conveys such a soft tone with his hands but I know it’s there. “Just not in the same way as everyone else does. They hear your music, but I hear your heart.”

We stay silent for a few minutes, and I let his words bounce around inside my ribcage. I wonder if he knows how many times he’s saved me; how many times he’s caught me as I fell like the long burning arms of the sun in the story I realize that I’m living more and more each day.

“I called it the bird and the sun,” I tell him, not quite looking at him but I feel the way he tenses a bit next to me. “Yamaguchi asked if it had a name and that’s what I said. I think it fits alarmingly well.”

His eyebrows are knit together when I turn, and I can see the gears turning rapidly in his head. “You really like that story, don’t you?”

“I love it,” I answer. “I don’t really know how to explain it but it feels like more than a story to me. I don’t really believe in destiny, but I can’t help but feel like it was written for me. For _us_.”

“Maybe it was,” he whispers, his tone almost sad, but the house lights dim before I have a chance to ask if something is wrong. Instead I just squeeze his hand in the dark, watching as the first musician is called to stage.

As each person performs, piano keys and violin strings warming my heart, I find myself focusing less on the sounds they make and more on their stories. I wonder who they play for, whose name is behind their melodies, whose face they see when they look out towards the empty velvet seats. I can answer these questions for myself, but can they? I hope so. Everyone deserves that moment when their work stops being noise and becomes creation.

I’m completely calm when I’m called forward, kissing the back of Hinata’s hand lightly before letting go and gathering my guitar case. The stage hasn’t changed since the last time I sat on it, neither has the plain high backed chair sitting behind the metal music stand I set my papers on; but I have. The scouts see the same lanky guy standing before them, but I know I’m different; and when I look out and see Hinata’s face drenched in shadow but still shining at me like a beacon, I know he is nothing like the imaginary version of himself that held that same seat so many weeks ago.

I hadn’t truly realized how much everything has change while simultaneously remaining static, but it screams at me now. It rings out as my song fills the room, and it reflects in the way my breathing remains steady. I can’t make out Hinata’s expression in the dark, with the stage lights obscuring my view, but like he said before, I can feel his heart; and it tells me that he’s listening.

The song ends quicker than I expected, and when I stand to bow and thank the audience I really mean it. So much has come from this opportunity presented to me, but I know deep down that my future isn’t held here. There’s a path I belong on, but it does not include this agency or this stage or even the constricting tie around my neck. I will carve my path myself, and I will make it just wide enough for two bodies to fit through.

 

 


	15. The Sword of Damocles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This chapter was really hard for me to get into the groove of writing (I think I'm just subconsciously putting off the end) but I think it turned out rather well. But of course, that's for you guys to decide. The next chapter, I'm sad to say, will be the last!! So be prepared for that. (I am thinking of writing another companion piece from Hinata's perspective based on this chapter so let me know if you guys think that's a good idea or not.) As always, thank you all so much for sticking with me during this entire endeavor. It means the world to me <3  
> Again, there is a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/ghostfox/scattered-light) for this fic if you would like to give it a listen and feel free to send any song suggestions you have my way!
> 
>  
> 
> I was the one you always dreamed of,  
> You were the one I tried to draw.  
> How dare you say it's nothing to me?  
> Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.  
> We're going down,  
> And you can see it too.  
> We're going down,  
> And you know that we're doomed.  
> My dear,  
> We're slow dancing in a burning room.
> 
> \- John Mayer

That night Hinata doesn’t stay over, and I do my best to chalk it up to him just being tired (regular tired, not ‘I secretly hate my boyfriend’ tired) because on a list of things guaranteed to make me overanalyze everything in my life this definitely makes the top five. So he wanted to sleep in his own bed by himself for the first time in a few weeks, what’s wrong with that? It’s probably because of the way he claims I steal the blankets when I roll over in the middle of the night, which I don’t. No matter the reason, I have no reason to get upset. And I’m not; upset that is. It’s an oddly freeing feeling. Of course I’d rather have him in my arms like I’ve grown so accustomed to, but I’m proud of myself for not losing my shit. I wonder if Hinata knows I can handle these things now. So he went home, and I went home, to our homes that are so close and yet separated by the width of a hallway that feels like a mile, doubled by each closed door, and that was okay.

This morning I woke up oddly refreshed, sleeping well again despite the change; and had my normal bowl of cereal before considering texting Hinata to see what he had planned for the day, but as I pick my phone up off the table it vibrates in my hand. I don’t even have to check the name, my mind wandering briefly to the possibility of telekinesis as I slide the screen.

**From: Hinata**

**I know this is short notice, but I’m going home for a few days to visit my mom while she’s in town.**

I’d be lying if I said my heart doesn’t sink, that my blood doesn’t run cold for an instant, but it is not nearly as debilitating as it could be. I don’t respond, I just stand and make my way across the empty metaphorical miles between us, hoping that he hasn’t left yet. I don’t know what I’m planning, knowing full well that I can’t take any more time off of work to accompany him (Ukai has pulled enough strings for me already); at best I just want to say goodbye.

He’s walking out of his room with a deflated looking duffel bag in tow when I enter, hair messy and sticking up in more places than usual. He must be in a hurry to catch the train.

“Hey,” I breathe when his eyes lock with mine and surprise flashes briefly behind them.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, setting the bag down to sign and pausing to run one hand through his unruly curls, fingers catching on a tangle. “I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”

He has charcoal smudged on his fingertips and exhaustion in his eyes, and I realize that his crumpled clothes and messy hair are due to a sleepless night instead of a hurried departure. He gets carried away with his art sometimes, he same way I do, and at that point sleep means nothing. The only thing that matters is getting the ink or paint or sound out of your veins any way possible. That tired look on his face, that slump of his shoulders, is something I understand on a cellular level.

“Yeah I’ve been up a little while. I came to see you off,” I tell him. “When does your train leave?”

“Half an hour. The net one isn’t for another four hours,” he replies, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I would have told you earlier if I could, mom just texted me less than an hour ago.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to walk you to the station?”

He glances toward the window, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it so quickly I almost don’t see it before picking his bag back up. “Sure.”

I throw on a pair of jeans and some shoes before heading downstairs to where Hinata waits, his smile halfhearted as I take his bag and his hand. He must be really tired, all of his movements and expressions sluggish and off, so we remain silent as we walk. Whatever he was working on must be really spectacular. I wonder if I’ll get the chance to see it.

His hand is limp in mine, and his shoes scrape across the pavement as he drags his feet. The birds on the telephone wires don’t sing, and hardly any cars pass on the street. It’s as if the whole world sat awake last night and now can’t seem to keep its eyelids from falling closed. Maybe the earth is working on its own project: some big cosmic show that it’s still struggling to prepare for. I want to know what it’s planning, but then again I figure I should just let it be.

Maybe I should just let Hinata be. I don’t need to worry about spending this time apart, be it a night or a month, because he’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine. Distance and time are not measures of love, and neither is the strength in which his fingers grip mine.

“I wish I could come with you,” I say, turning to him when we reach the front of the station, his train not yet in the loading bay. He looks up, eyes squinting and nose scrunching up with the morning sun behind me shining in his eyes. Now he knows how I feel constantly.

“You’d probably be bored the whole time anyway,” he replies, letting go of my hand to sign. “Mom’s idea of visiting is sitting at the diner all day discussing business and politics with Uncle Ittetsu. Natsu gets really into it but it bores me to tears. Yachi’s cooking is amazing but even she can’t save me.”

“Sounds like a blast,” I chuckle, imagining Natsu heatedly debating government policies with her mother and uncle. I’d pay real money to see the look on Mz Takeda’s face the first time her daughter got that immovable set to her jaw and stern edge to her words that appears when she gets worked up (which happens fairly often), seeming to make her grow several inches.

A woman’s voice comes over the intercom, announcing the arrival of the train that will carry Hinata back to his home where his family waits. His gaze has dropped from mine to the sidewalk so I lift his chin with one finger until he returns it. “Your ride’s here.”

He smiles, letting air whistle through his nose instead of stretching his lips over his teeth. It’s like a rain check for a smile, a statement giving the sentiment but not the reward. “I guess I should get going,” he signs, taking the strap of his bag out of my hand.

He turns to leave, but I catch his arm, pulling him into a quick hug, images of standing in this exact spot and hugging Natsu in the same way popping in my head. She had smelled of strawberries instead of pencil shavings and stale sweat, but I kiss the top of his head anyway before letting him go. “Tell everyone hi for me. Have a good time, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll try,” he mutters, nodding as he steps back. I can see words swimming behind his eyes as if he wants to say something, but they disappear quickly and he turns, walking up the path and away from me.

I watch as he climbs aboard the train before the doors shut and the wheels start their slow progression from immobility to scraping motion on the tracks. His head appears in one of the side windows, but he faces forward, missing my waving had in his peripheral vision.

And just like that, he’s speeding away on thousands of pounds of metal and human cargo, and I wonder what I’m going to do with the rest of my day.

***

I still haven’t answered that question by the time my classes end that Tuesday, the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and buckles snapping on guitar cases meeting my ears. I haven’t done anything interesting for the last couple days; a little writing here, a little playing there, a few hours of video games littered in between. Not far off from how my daily life used to be, but much less empty. Hinata hasn’t texted much, and I haven’t bothered him.

It’s not interesting, this quiet existence I’ve fallen into, but it’s comforting. I would be content going on like this forever, staying on the same path with the same people, but I think I’m ready for something new. Routine has built me into the person I am, finally comfortable with the way the outside air feels against my skin, but that person sees a staircase of opportunity and is itching to climb.

“Knock knock,” a voice calls from behind me, and I turn to see Asahi smiling gently from the doorway, tapping his fist lightly against the frame. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yeah! Of course,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck which is warm with the realization that I’ve been standing in the middle of the room staring at the wall for god knows how long. “Sorry, I was just spacing out a bit.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he chuckles, striding across the room in about three long legged steps and setting his bag down in his usual seat. I drag another chair over from the circle in the center of the room and we both sit down. I’m always amazed at the strength of the plastic chair as it groans under him but does not yield. “So how have you been? We haven’t met in a while.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair as I try to remember the last time we actually sat here like this. Too much has happened between then and now. “I’m really sorry about that. I’ve had a hectic couple of weeks.”

“Don’t worry about it at all, Kageyama,” he answers, holding up a hand to stop my apology. “Tooru called and explained for you. I’m just glad you’re back in town and feeling better.”

Sometimes I forget that Oikawa can actually be a pleasant human being sometimes (probably due to the fact that I can count these occurrences on one hand), and I am always surprised when I hear about it. “Oh, he didn’t tell me about that.”

“He seemed really worried about you,” he continues, pulling his books out of his bag as he talks. “I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“Neither did I,” I mumble, but he doesn’t hear me.

“Ready?” He asks, and I nod, still slightly distracted by his words.

We go over vocabulary for a while until he seems satisfied with my memorization, and we move on to response time. My hands feel so much surer than they had when I first met Asahi, and I’m able to read and respond to him quickly and efficiently. I can see a bit of pride on his face as he watches my fingers, and I feel my own pride budding in my chest. I’ve worked hard with sign language, harder than most things in my life, and the results really show it.

“I don’t think you even need me anymore,” Asahi beams as he signs the words at me. “You sign like someone who’s been studying for years.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I reply, my hands moving reflexively. “And a really great teacher.”

“You flatter me,” he responds, dropping his hands and choosing to speak out loud, breaking the tranquil silence of the room. “I mean it, though. I don’t think there’s much more I can teach you.”

“You’d be surprised. I’m a deeply unlearned person,” I quip, waving off the concern that flashes on his face. “I guess you’re off the hook then. You can stop wasting your afternoons with me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” he smiles, stuffing his books back in his bag and turning to me. “I’ve enjoyed these sessions. It’s rather refreshing working with an adult instead of children for a change. Not that I don’t love my job! It can just get a bit tiring sometimes.”

“I bet,” I nod. My experience with children begins and ends with Takeru, and I sincerely doubt I could handle more than one of him. I can barely handle him alone. But the thought does give me an idea. “Could I ask you a question, Asahi?”

“Of course!” He answers, setting his bag back on the floor and sitting down. “What can I help you with?”

I fidget in my seat for a second, not used to starting conversations on my own like this. “How did you get into this line of work? You work with hearing and speech impaired children, right? Where did you start?” The questions pour out, and both of us seem surprised by it.

“Oh! Well, that’s an interesting story,” he starts, rubbing one hand against the whiskers on his chin absentmindedly. “It has a lot to do with Tooru, actually.”

“Really?” Oikawa had told me Asahi was an old friend but I had never asked him to clarify.

“Mhmm. We met in high school, jeez that was a long time ago,” he continues, “and we were pretty close for a while. He used to volunteer for one of those Big Brothers, Big Sisters programs that pair you with kids in foster care and things like that.”

“Oikawa? Volunteer? Are you sure?” I ask, unable to conjure up images of a young Oikawa spending his days downtown with a gaggle of kids at his heels.

“Surprising, I know. But he’s a lot more compassionate that he likes to let on,” Asahi tells me, fondness in his eyes as he talks about our mutual friend (I use the word friend loosely). “He enjoyed it so much that he convinced me to come along with him, and after a while we both developed a love for it. When college rolled around it seemed obvious that we should study Child Development, and we did, but Tooru quit after two semesters.”

I feel stupid for barely realizing it, but this makes total sense. I knew he was the same age as Suga but I never bothered to ask why he also started at our university a year late. “I met him just after that,” I say, thinking back to days when we would passive-aggressively compete for Suga’s attention. “He changed colleges and majors. I think he got a degree in literature or something.”

“He never told me why he quit, but we’ve managed to keep up contact. Anyway, after he left I finished my degree and found a job at a local elementary school. I’ve been working there for a few years now and I love it. I guess, despite everything, I owe that to Tooru,” he finishes, smiling warmly at me again. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity,” I answer, not quite a lie but not quite truth either. I don’t know what type of answers I was looking for but, as interesting as the conversation was, these are not them.

“Well I hope I helped,” he says, standing again and pulling his bag strap over his shoulder. “If you have any more questions, or just want to say hello, feel free to call me.”

“I will,” I respond, and it doesn’t feel like a lie. “Thanks for everything, Asahi.”

I extend my hand and he grips it, his handshake surprisingly gentle. “It was my pleasure. Give Tooru my best,” he grins, and I nod in answer before he turns to leave the room with the same giant strides as when he entered.

I don’t stay very long, gathering my stuff and leaving the room shortly after him. My thoughts race as I make my way home, words and memories bouncing off of my skull and mixing together as I try to make sense of what I’ve learned. I may not have gotten the answers I was looking for, but I feel substantially closer to them than I have been. My ideas for the future lay just on the edge of my vision, and my fingertips are itching to reach for them.

Soon, I think to myself. I’ll figure it out soon, and then I’ll be unstoppable.

***

Decadence is a word that has always confused me. I’ve always assigned a positive connotation to it, using it to describe things that are delicious or beautiful, but I was surprised to find the negative implications that come along. Indulgence is always pinned with it, which confuses me even more because doesn’t self indulgence make people happy? Or maybe I’m just looking too deep into this, I think, taking another bite of grease covered pepperoni pizza.

“I think I’m going to settle on third grade,” Suga says between bites of his own pizza, pulling at a piece of stretchy cheese with his fingers. “It’s just such a good age, you know? You can hold a real conversation with an eight year old but they’re still adorably innocent.”

“Are you regretting taking your student teaching credits in a kindergarten class?” I ask from across the coffee table. This is our first pizza night in a while and it feels great to see Suga and Daichi sitting on my sofa with oily paper plates in their hands. I’m even glad to have Oikawa here in the recliner seat.

“Just a little,” he sighs, guilt practically dripping in his voice. “The kids are adorable and the teacher is great, but it’s just so hard to hold their attention for more than two minutes. And the _messes_. I never knew there were so many spillable substances in a classroom.”

“That’s what you get for working with kids. They’re messy and noisy and they can’t even wipe their own noses. Except for Takeru, of course. He’s an angel,” Oikawa says, dabbing the top of his pizza with a napkin. Yeah right. He’s lying through his teeth; he loves kids.

“He’s kinda right, babe,” Daichi adds, reaching for another breadstick from the table. “You signed up for this. I don’t know why you thought twenty three kindergartners in one room sounded like a good idea.”

“I’m pretty sure my entire thought consisted of ‘five year olds are super cute this will be great’,” he says, shaking his head as if to reprimand his past self. “I think I just need more practice. What’s messier than a five year old?”

“Babies,” I answer, saying the first thing that pops in my head.

“That’s perfect!” Oikawa claps, a wicked glint in his eyes that immediately makes me uncomfortable. “You should have a baby! Or buy one or whatever.”

Daichi immediately chokes on his bite of breadstick, hitting his chest with a closed fist, and Suga I too busy staring at Oikawa with eyes wider than I think humanly possible to notice. “Holy shit,” I whisper to myself, hand frozen in the air where I had begun to lift it to my mouth.

No one makes a sound, except for Daichi trying not to die in the corner, as Oikawa and Suga have a silent stare down. I could probably reach out and take a handful of tension from the air, it’s so thick. The front door opens, and everyone’s heads whip up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Hinata looks horrified as he walks into the living room finding four pairs of eyes meeting his all in a different stage of horrified and scared.

“Hinata!” Oikawa calls, breaking the silence and effectively changing the subject. There’s a collective exhale before everyone smiles and waves and Hinata cautiously takes a seat by me on the carpet.

“Hey,” I breathe, my heart still beating against my ribs. “I didn’t know you were coming home today.”

“Sorry,” he answers, leaning forward to grab a plate and some pizza but sitting it on his knee so he can sign. “Forgot to charge my phone so I couldn’t text.”

I nod, inconspicuously searching his face for signs of the exhaustion I saw before he left. The skin under his eyes seems darker than usual but other than that he looks a lot better. “Did you have a good trip?”

He begins to tell me about his visit and Suga, Daichi, and Oikawa fall into their own (tentative) conversation in the background. I smile as he tells me about different things he talked about with his mom or very Natsu-like things Natsu did, my fingers itching the entire time to reach out and trail his face or brush his hair back. I almost wish everyone would leave so I can have him to myself. I settle with a hand on his knee and a chaste kiss on the cheek to say I’ve missed him.

He doesn’t stay very long, announcing after about an hour that he’s tired and should probably get to bed. I’m disappointed, definitely, but I smile as he tells everyone goodnight and heads back the way he came, the sound of his front door closing hitting me like a baseball bat to the chest. When I look back up everyone is looking at me and I understand the mix of confused terror on Hinata’s face when he walked in.

“Why-,”

“What’s up with you two?” Daichi blurts, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“What do you mean?” I ask, my hands absentmindedly fisting in the hem of his shirt.

“Hinata seemed really…distant,” Suga says, his words softer than those of his husband.

“You guys are looking too into it,” I counter, shaking my head at the idea. “If anything was wrong I would’ve noticed, and everything seemed fine to me.” Half true.

“You’re denser than maple syrup, Tobio,” Oikawa pipes up, rolling his eyes at me. “Even before you were dating you two acted closer than _that_. Something is definitely wrong with your boy toy.”

“Stop calling him that!”

“Oikawa, behave,” Suga tsks, shooting his best ‘one eyebrow raised sternly’ look across the table.

“If you don’t know what’s bothering him you should just ask,” Daichi suggests, giving me his best sympathetic smile.

“It’s probably nothing you did,” Suga adds, nodding in agreement. “It’s better to be open instead of skirting around it.”

No one speaks as I sit staring between the three of them, waiting futilely for one of them to admit they’re all just fucking with me. They won’t though, because it’s true. Something _is_ off between Hinata and I and I’ve been doing my best to ignore it. He is the one person with the power to completely stop my attempts to grow in their tracks. “You really think something is wrong?”

All three heads nod in unison, a somber set to their jaws and worry in their eyes.

Of course I believe them but I definitely don’t want to. To believe them is to admit defeat. To accept their words and advice is to admit that I am so stupid, so ridiculously blind, that I didn’t even notice my own boyfriend was upset in such a blaringly obvious way.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, dropping my head in my hands and fisting one hand in my hair. “I fucked up.”

“You don’t know what it is,” Suga tries to calm me, leaning off the couch and onto his knees on the carpet so he can put a hand on my shoulder. “It probably has nothing to do with you like Daichi said. He just came from seeing his mom, right? Maybe it has to do with that.”

“No,” I shake my head, still in disbelief on just how oblivious I was. “He was like that before he left. I just thought he was tired. This definitely has something to do with me.”

“If I may,” Oikawa starts, clearing his throat and masking the groan that escapes my lips. “Rude, Tobio. Anyway, as I was saying, if I know one thing about Hinata, probably the _only_ thing I know about him, it’s that he adores you. Why? I have no idea. Frankly I think he could do better, but I’ve never seen someone look at another person the way he looks at you, and I’ve spent way too much time around these two,” he says, pointing his thumb toward where Suga still kneels in front of Daichi’s legs. “Nothing so small that you didn’t even notice it would be enough to dim the light he thinks you have.”

Daichi lets a whistle out between his teeth, leaning back against the couch cushions impressed, and I swear I see Suga subtly wipe away a tear. I am unconvinced, partly because I’m not sure if any of that was actually a compliment to me or just insults disguised at advice.

“Smaller things have sent me away before.”

“Hinata isn’t you, though,” Daichi notes, and I hate how natural it is for him to console me. How easy it is for all of them.

“Everybody deals with things differently,” Suga nods, still rubbing my shoulder soothingly. “You like to recede when you’re upset, but Hinata may cope some other way.”

My mind wanders back to images of the two of us on his bed back at the ranch house as he tells me his past, hands shaking but determined to get all of his feeling out into the open.

“He opens up when something’s bothering him.”

“All the more reason to talk to him about it,” Oikawa repeats, all signs of his fleeting helpfulness gone, glancing at the clock as if he has a million better places to be. His argument makes sense, which kind of pisses me off, but I’m still not completely sure.

“I think I’m just gonna give him space for a little while. It’s too late to do anything about it tonight anyway.” I don’t look up, eyes fixated on the threads of carpet below me.

“Alright, but think about it, okay?” Suga asks, and I nod. “We should probably get going.”

We gather together the empty pizza boxes and dirty dishes from around the room, my brain buzzing as we clean. Too many thoughts whirring around at too fast a pace; practice sentences, hypothetical scenarios, pro and con lists. It’s like having a bee hive in my skull.

Suga hugs me tightly and Daichi gives my shoulder a firm squeeze before they leave, bidding me goodnight, but Oikawa lags behind. I hold the door open for him but he makes it just over the threshold before turning to me.

The words ‘get out of my house’ are halfway out of my mouth when he speaks, cutting off my pseudo malice. “Don’t lose him, okay? Don’t push him away because you don’t know how to handle a bump in the road. I actually like you ever since he whipped your emo ass into shape.”

He steps back and pushes the door back before I can retort, and I stand stunned for a few minutes with my own door inches from my nose. _Don’t push him away because you don’t know how to handle a bump in the road._ His words stab like an icy knife through my chest because goddamn if he didn’t sum me up in twenty words or less.

Except he didn’t; not really. No, I do _not_ know how to handle a bump in the road. Not for the life of me do I know how to adapt to something outside of my carefully constructed comfort sphere, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

Oikawa may be right, but his words were directed at a past version of me; the me that would’ve ran scared at the first sign of danger. The new me, the one he claims to ‘actually like’, is capable of trying.

I don’t know what I’m going to say to Hinata; I don’t know when I’ll say it or how strong I’ll be, but I know I’ll try. All I can do is hope and pray to whatever God it is that keeps the thin threads of our lives intertwined between their fingertips, that he’s willing to try too.

***

Fear is something that has directed scenes of my life for so long, I’ll be the first to admit it, but this is not fear; this is rational thought. Well, maybe not rational, but at least premeditated. The verdict of rationality will come later.

Hinata’s door handle is cold against my palm, the warmth of the air rushing to fill its place against my skin as I let go and take a step back. I’m not ready, he’s probably not ready, and showing up at his door first thing in the morning to have a serious conversation is probably not what he wants right now. He left for a reason, right? That was a sign that he needs space, wasn’t it? I can’t pretend to know, but I can choose to head down the stairs and make my way to work, vowing to get to the bottom of everything. Just, not right now.

Oikawa doesn’t stick his head out of the window for his normal morning greeting today, and I hate to admit that I miss it. I find comfort in constants, and too many of them are slipping away. Even the sun seems to be on a different path today, sitting pale in the sky instead of burning with the flaming orange of sunrise.

Subdued. That’s the word I’m looking for. The atmosphere around me feels subdued; less intense than usual. _I_ feel subdued, my emotions swimming inside of me with less fervor than I would expect.

The day continues on much the same way, but after a while my stress starts to lessen. Maybe it’s the music that fills the room from the students I’ve been working wit, or maybe it’s the numbness of time setting in and making room for calm. Either way, I’m grateful.

Of course everything will work out. We’ve been through so much together, Hinata and I, held each other steady through countless trials even before we knew there were deeper feelings to reciprocate, and that’s not going to end here.

And with that, the strings around my heat loosen, and air enters my lungs just a bit easier. As my last batch of students make their way out of the classroom I dig my phone out of my bag to shoot Hinata a quick text. I want to tell him I’ll be stopping by soon, that we need to talk, that I love him; but I just end up staring at the empty screen as too many thoughts race through my mind.

“Oh good. I was hoping to catch you before you left,” comes a familiar voice behind me, making me jump.

“Yamaguchi! Hey,” I answer, turning around just as he makes his way into the room. He’s traded his usual business attire for a plain flannel open over a Pink Floyd t-shirt, his hair pulled up into a ponytail that uncovers the freckles along the sides of his face. He almost looks like a different person.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” I tell him, gesturing at his clothes. “Never would’ve pegged you as a classic rock kind of guy.”

“Really?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “What _would_ you peg me as?”

I think about it for a moment before answering, smirking when the answer comes to me. “More of an 80’s glam rock fan. Bowie, Springsteen, Mötley Crüe; the classics.”

“Well if we’re talking glam rock I’m more into Def Leppard or Poison fan,” he laughs, leaning back against one of the desks and crossing his arms.

“I guess you know your music.”

“That’s kind of my job,” he smirks. A soft kind of smirk as opposed to a cocky one. It’s calming. “Speaking of which, I had the day off so I wanted to come down and congratulate you in person.”

“Congratulate me?” I repeat, tilting my head in confusion; and idiosyncrasy I’m sure I picked up from Hinata.

“Mhmm. Ever since your last audition talent scouts have been calling the office nonstop. Out of everyone there they’re the most interested in you. And they’re all saying the same thing, that there’s an unduplicated rawness to the emotions you play with, like you’re conveying feelings too strong for the rest of us to fully comprehend. They’re completely obsessed with you.”

He’s beaming as he tells me this, like a parent watching their first child graduate college. I don’t think my heart has beat once since he started speaking, his words slowly sinking in and freezing my blood to a sluggish yet excited hum in my veins. “But,” he continues, “I’m the one that brought you in, so I get dibs. There are plenty of offers out there, and you’re in no way obligated to choose to work with me, but I guess what I’m getting at is I’m here to offer you a job.”

My blood thaws almost as fast as it froze, rushing along its original path and up towards my brain until my heart sounds like a drum and I feel a bit dizzy. Too much information too fast; too many feelings, to many decisions to make.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” I admit, breathless and wondering if he can hear the racket against my ribs.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says, holding up his palms to halt my stuttering. “It’s just something to think about. The job isn’t going anywhere.”

“I definitely will,” I tell him, nodding before adding, “But there’s someone I need to discuss it with first.”

“Of course!” He claps, standing up and checking his watch. “Take all the time you need. It’s a big decision.”

He shakes my hand and ids me good evening before making his way towards the door, turning back at the last second. “You’ve got a rare talent, kid. Make sure you use it to do whatever makes you happiest. If that’s with me or anyone else is for you to decide, but you don’t get two chances at this kind of thing. Make sure your heart is in it.”

And then he’s gone, footsteps echoing down the hallway in the direction that will carry him to Ukai’s office. He leaves, but his words stay. They stick in my mind, following me as I exit the building, ringing in my ears as I make my way down the sidewalks, digging deeper with every stair my shoe connects with in the narrow landing.

I want to think about this. I want to continue the train of rational thought I began this morning, but I feel like I was switched to overdrive and my mind is moving too fast to slow down and plan anything.

So I don’t. I open Hinata’s door and walk in like I would any other day, under any circumstance, and I find him just where I expected, on the couch with a sketchbook in his lap and a quilt thrown over his legs. It seems so normal, so close to what I’ve grown used to that I almost forget there’s anything wrong.

“Hey,” he says, looking up as I practically burst in, caught off guard. His eyes are blown wide in that way that always makes my heart flutter, which doesn’t help the way it’s already pounding. “You okay?”

“Yeah,’ I answer, letting out breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “Uh, are you?” I stammer, closing the door behind me but remaining in the same spot.

“Of course,” he returns, setting down his charcoal pencil to sign and eyeing me with a mix of confused apprehension. “You look…sweaty.”

“I might have kind of…ran here,” I admit, feeling my muscles and my mind relax as I find no signs of upset on his features. “I have something to tell you.”

He doesn’t answer, just nods and leans forward to set his sketchbook on the coffee table, pulling the blanket up closer around his shoulders when he sits back against the cushions and patting the spot next to him.

Were we wrong? Is nothing wrong with him after all? Was everything just another spectacle of my ability to overanalyze? Probably. It usually is.

I take a few more steadying breaths, my lungs aching from the run or from the air I keep accidentally withholding I don’t know, and head over to the spot he indicated. He turns to put his back against the arm of the sofa to face me and I mirror him on the other side, an action that has become almost second nature for us.

“So what’s up?” He asks, that familiar soft smile back on his lips as he cocks his head to the side and every ounce of apprehension melts from around my heart. This is my Hinata, whole and unchanged. Perfect as always.

“Yamaguchi stopped by the rec center today,” I begin, unable to stop myself from smiling. I probably look like an idiot but I honestly don’t care. My boyfriend isn’t mad at me and I have great news to share with him and everything is amazing. “First of all he wasn’t wearing a suit and it was kind of weird. Also he had a ponytail. I think you’d look good in a ponytail. You should try it sometime.”

Hinata shakes his head, laughing at the way I ramble and motions for me to get to the point. “Sorry, I’m just excited. Anyway, he said he wanted to talk to me about the audition and everything, and then he offered me a job.”

His eyes go wide as  he hops up onto his knees, blinding sunshine smile on his face where it belongs and dissolving that last seed of doubt in my chest that still believed he was upset with me.

“That’s amazing!” He yells through his hands, and I can barely understand because he’s bouncing around on the cushions so much. “What did you say? When will you start? What will you do?” His hands move so fast that I have to cup them in my own to stop his frantic questions. He calms down bit, settling back onto his legs but still buzzing.

“I didn’t,” I tell him, and I watch as confusion crosses his eyes but doesn’t damper his smile. “I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You’ve worked so hard for this,” he tells me, pulling his hands free of mine so he can speak, much slower and more direct than moments ago. “You have to take it.”

“I know I should. It makes sense to, definitely, but I think I’m going to turn him down,” I tell him, the words spilling out as they dawn on me, everything slowly making sense. “I don’t think I want to work for a big company. I mean, I thought I did, I though any job that let me write what I wanted and create on my own would be fine, but now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?” He pulls his knees up to his chest, eyebrows furrowed and all traces of smile gone.

“Because if I take a job like this it’s a journey I’ll go on alone,” I explain, trying to follow the changes in his expression. “It’s a path that you can’t follow me down, and I don’t want that at all. I want you to be a part of everything I do for the rest of my life.”

“Kageyama, you can’t,” he whispers, finger’s wrapped so tightly in his blanket that his knuckles are white.

“It’ okay. This is what I want. I’ve finally figured it out. It’s you. I want you. And as long as I have that everything else will fall into place.”

I’m still smiling when his first ear falls, and I feel the juxtaposition in my soul. We are not on the same page here. My face falls as I ask him, “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just burrows his face in his hands with a choked sob, and I feel my heart start to splinter. I want to reach out and pull him close to me but I’m so stunned, so confused. What did I do?

“I knew it,’ he whispers, over and over with less clarity each time, his words slurring together and muffles by the thickness in his throat.

“Hinata,” I breathe, but he doesn’t see, just keeps whispering to himself. I don’t know what happened. I have no idea how we went from buzzing with excitement to sobbing in front of me in a span of seconds. _What the fuck did I do_?

I have to reach out and pull one of his hands away from his face to get his attention. “Talk to me,” I say, pleading, but he just shakes his head, rubbing his free hand across his nose where it’s wet with tears. “Baby, please.”

“It’s me,” he says, pulling his hand out of mine and wiping his face again before signing. “This is my fault. You’re throwing away your dreams because of me.”

“No. No not at all,” I reply, the heartbreak I can feel through his gestures tearing me apart. I try to reach out, wanting to hold him to my chest until he understands just how much I love him, until he feels better, but he pulls away, standing up and pacing the length of the room. It feels like a knife to the heart.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this, so I just stay where I am, feeling the shattered pieces of my heart fall and ricochet off of the rest of my internal organs on their way down.

He turns to me then, all traces of tears gone from his eyes, practically shouting with his fingers. “Am I the sun?”

“What?”

“The sun. In your story. Is that me?” I don’t know what he’s getting at, I don’t know where this is coming from, but the answer to that question is one thing I _do_ know.

“Of course,” I answer, which was apparently the wrong thing to say. I watch, as if in slow motion, as his entire expression crumbles and he drops down to a squat on the ground, hands over his ears as he shakes his head back and forth.

I jump to my feet, unsure of how to act, unsure if he wants to hear anything I have to say. Unsure if he wants _me_ at all.

“It _is_ my fault,” He signs, looking up at me from the floor. “You’re the bird and I’m the sun. I’m burning your dreams live.” He smiles, an empty smile. A broken smile.

“Is that what you think? Is that what’s been bothering you?” I ask, words tumbling from my mouth before I even have a chance to form them in my head. “You think you’re going to ruin my life?”

“You said it yourself,” he replies, standing up but not breaching the space between us. “I’m the sun.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, and then I laugh, unable to hold it back. “But you’ve got it all wrong.”

I don’t know what he was expecting, but this, me laughing in the middle of his breakdown, is definitely not it. “You’ve missed the entire point,” I say.

I step forward, expecting him to back away from me, but he stays put, and I cup his face between my palms, thumbs wiping away tears that have started to fall again.

“Being the sun isn’t a bad thing,” I start, the heat of his face seeping into my fingertips. I always look to him for strength, because I have always been so weak, but right now, in this moment, I am finally the strong one. I’m the one who has to mop up the mess he’s in and put him back together.

“It doesn’t mean you burned my dreams, it means you burned away the parts of me I hated. You turned the life I almost had, sad and empty with no real direction, into something else entirely. Because of you I can be happy. Because of you I won’t be alone, I won’t go down the path I was headed when we met, one that would leave me like my father with a million regrets and a funeral party as pathetic as the life I lived when it ended.”

I pause, taking a breath to steady the way my voice starts to waver, with raw emotion instead of fear. “You made me free, Hinata. The bird was a prisoner, and you, the sun, turned me into the stars in the sky as vast as my love for you.”

“But in the end they weren’t truly together,” he whispers, reaching up to fist his hands in my shirt.

“You can’t hear my music, and I can’t truly see your art. We’re about as incompatible as humanly possible, but we make it work. Just like they did.” Tears are streaming down my face now, praying that he understands; that he can see the things I feel the way I do. I grab one of his hands and flatten it over where my heart is slamming into my ribcage. “Do you feel that? _That’s_ because of you. Without you I would be so lost, so empty, but you’ve given my heart a reason to beat.”

He pulls my hands from his face, mirroring my actions and fattening them against his chest. “Me too.”

I don’t even think, don’t stop to consider my actions, I just lift his chin and press our lips together, letting the kiss convey everything else I feel, unspoken. It’s gentle, almost careful the way I hold him, like he’s breakable, because I’ve learned today that he is. We’re the same in that respect; easily damaged. He tastes of salt and sunshine, the last of his tears landing in the cracks of our mouths and making their way to my tongue.

He’s the one to deepen it, he’s the one to pull me down so he can wrap his arms around my neck and close the gap of space between us to get a better hold, and he’s the one that loses his balance and sends us staggering backwards against the side of the sofa. He pulls back and looks at me; eyes still red but no more fresh tears blossoming.

“You’re too tall,” he giggles, barely able to sign from the way he’s pinned up against my chest.

“Maybe you should grow to a normal height,” I return, smirking. “Also this kind of feels awful against my back.”

Instead of moving he just leans down to whisper in my ear, “Follow me.”

“Wha-‘”

He’s up with lightening speed, my hand gripped tightly in his as he drags me down the hallway and into his room, my mind racing almost as quickly as my pulse. My thoughts come in sensations instead of sentences.

His fingers against my jaw as he leans up as far as he can to trail red hot lips to my skin. The rough shove against my shoulders, the springs of his mattress groaning as I fall back against them with all of my weight. The friction of his jeans on mine as he joins me on top of the sheets, one leg on each side of my waist.

He is so eager in the way he pulls me close or tugs at my hair, lips never on the same spot of skin for more than a second, my head swimming with his touch and struggling to keep up with his movements. I want to remember every second of this, to immortalize ever attack on my senses in this little slice of frozen time but he is determined to live in the moment. One second my hands are under his thighs, propping myself up on my elbows as his teeth leave temporary scars on my throat, only to move to my ear lobe, my jaw line, my shoulder, and before I know it there is nothing but skin on skin and a heat that scorches in every sense of the word but the pain.

I’ve always thought he was beautiful but I realize that I know nothing about beauty until I see the arch of his back against the sheets from where I’ve moved him underneath me, or the glisten of sweat collecting in the hollow between his collarbones. His eyes flicker like candlelight between the fringe of his long eyelashes as he looks up at me, panting as he reaches forward to trace his fingers on the pale skin just below my navel.

**I love you**

I can feel the biggest dumb grin spread across my face, my hands returning his words from where they grip the sides of his thighs.

**I love you too**

The window on the side of the room is slick with condensation, beading and trailing down the glass, leaving tracks of moisture. The light of sunset still manages to filter in, throwing a glow of warm light across our skin, burning gold and shimmering. We are not two people, we are one flame, crackling, combusting, _smoldering._

By the time the sun goes down we are reduced to residual embers, Hinata resting on top of my chest and breathing lightly as we lay beneath the covers, my hand circling absentmindedly down his back. I watch as his body lifts with every breath I take, his messy hair ruffling in the air I exhale.

He crosses his arms on top of my chest and leans his chin against them, turning to me suddenly. My fingers reach out and brush against his cheek and he leans into the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but I stop him with a fingertip against soft lips before he can continue.

“It’s okay now, right?” He nods and I smile, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Then it’s over.”

He beams at me and I want so badly to kiss him but I’d rather not move, wanting to stay laying like this forever staring straight into his eyes that speak to me so loudly. Which gets me thinking. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?” He hums, a quiet euphoria behind his irises as he turns his head to the side.

“What color are my eyes?”

The question seems to catch him off guard his gaze quizzical. “Blue.”

“Yeah, I know, but what kind of blue? I’ve never been able to tell,” I feel silly asking this, and I can feel heat rise to my cheeks but he just smiles, repositioning himself so he can use his hands.

“They’re dark,” he starts, eager in the way he speaks as if he’s been waiting to say these words. “Most blue eyes are light, like the sky, but yours are so deep, almost endless. They remind me of the depths of the sea, mysterious and full of unseen life, or space, vast and incomprehensible. They’re like you. I could look into them and find something new to love every day.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Neither do I.”

And with that he closes his eyes, replacing his arms on my chest and using them as a pillow, demonstrating his supernatural ability to go to sleep as if on cue.

I follow closely behind, because for once my mind is clear. For once I am not thinking about the past, or the future, or even as far as the next breath I will take. I am completely and wholeheartedly in this moment, heartbeat by heartbeat.

I think it’s true, the saying that mankind has always wanted to fly, and I’m sure that at one point I subscribed to that dream. But flying is singular, one being alone in an empty sky, and for now I’d rather keep my roots in the ground, tangling with those of the flower I’m so lucky to call mine.

 


	16. Do You See What I See?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, 8 months later, the last chapter. I can never thank any of you enough for reading this and supporting the story so much either from your kind words or you kudos. It means so much more than I can ever say. I should probably stop before I get too emotional so, for now, here's the end. <3
> 
> If you're interested there is a playlist for this fic! And you can go ahead and listen to it right over [here.](http://8tracks.com/ghostfox/scattered-light)
> 
> Also, if you have not yet read [Pheonix](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6097610) I do recommend checking it out before this chapter since there is a bit of plot introduced there that is discussed here! 
> 
>  
> 
> Put your arms around me  
> What you feel is what you are  
> And what you are is beautiful
> 
> \- Goo Goo Dolls

I’ve never been the most observant person, and definitely not intuitive in the slightest, so it doesn’t surprise me that it takes several factors blended together for me to realize its summer. First it’s the trickling sweat beading on the back of my neck in the stuffy truck, bringing to light the way my shirt clings to my back against the sticky vinyl seat. Next is the way the air wavers just above the pavement stretching out before us, heat radiating off of the rough black surface. Lastly, and most noticeable, are the sunflowers. I remember, what seems like years ago, when Hinata mentioned that the train track in summer were lined with them, but I never could have imagined anything like this. The horizon is nothing but flowers and sunshine, breathtaking in the way only nature can be, giving you the feeling that the world is so much deeper than you can ever truly begin to comprehend.

I met Hinata in September, our story beginning as the leaves began to all and the air turned cold, fitting almost too perfectly with the person I was back then. I was reserved, removed from the idea of ever enjoying life the way I do now; a constant blizzard raging in my chest. But now, almost a full year later, and I’ve never felt so akin to the blazing August sun. It feels now, as I realize this gradual change in the season so suddenly, as if we are heading towards the summer of our lives.

“I still can’t believe it,” Suga says, pulling me away from the scenery and back into the thick air of the moving truck, both windows rolled all the way down yet doing nothing to cut the heat. “You’ve never been further that a fifteen minute walk from me since we met. Now you’re going to be so far away.” He lets out a quick sniffle and Hinata hides a laugh against my shoulder.

“Suga it’s only an hour drive at most. You could literally come over every weekend if you wanted,” I tell him, pulling at the front of my shirt to try and cool the sweat that gathers around my neck and chest.

“I know. I’m just going to miss you both so much,” he sniffles again, and I roll my eyes. He’s been acting like this ever since we told him about the property listing we found out in Hinata’s home town. We were apprehensive about it at first, intimidated by the thought of purchasing a piece of land, but the price was too good to pass up, mostly due to the poor condition of the house, and we fell in love with the idea of it.

It had taken about two months worth of working on it every weekend, but eventually the two of us, along with Uncle Ittetsu and some other people in town, we rebuilt the collapsing walls and replaced the floors and roof. Little by little the broken down house became something new again, built with our own hands and the support of the community.

Slowly everything fell together around us until the decision felt like a goal we had unknowingly been working towards our whole life. Yachi bought the diner and found herself understaffed, and Hinata was all too excited to accept when she asked him to join the team after the move. He also put up a few hand painted cards for sale at the florist shop to make a little extra cash for the new house and they grew really popular with the online orders. Watching him paint new cards, usually different types of flowers or small animals, crept into our nightly routine.

As for me, a position for music teacher opened up at Natsu’s high school and she talked me into applying. Hinata was worried I wouldn’t enjoy myself continuing in the teaching field, but I assured him that the schedule would give me plenty of time to work on my own projects and eventually figure out where to go from there.

I feels odd now, making this final trip and actually bringing our things along with us, our entire life stuffed into cardboard walls and sliding around in the back of a mostly empty truck. I almost feel as if it isn’t real, but Hinata squeezes my hand from where he sits between Suga and I, and I know that it is, and I am so beyond excited to finally start our life here.

“So which road do I take?” Suga asks, leaning forward and squinting as he searches for the small dirt path off of the main road that I told him would lead us home.

“Up ahead a little more,” I reply, the endless fields of grass split perfectly at the horizon by the vast country sky already familiar to me. “By the way, where’d Daichi and Oikawa go?” They had been following behind us in Daichi’s mini cooper but I don’t see their reflection in the side mirror anymore.

“They turned onto the highway a while ago. I think Daichi mentioned stopping by a store on the way before we left. Hopefully the GPS will lead them all the way out here,” he explains, eyes darting to the mirror on his side, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel even though we haven’t seen any other traffic since leaving the city.

Hinata looks up at me and shrugs, squeezing my fingers despite the sweat between our palms. He’s calm; the brightness of his eyes the only betrayer of his feelings. This is a new level of excitement; usually he can’t stay still, but now he has transcended the plane of hyper motion and moved on to stony silence. I can only imagine what his thoughts sound like right now.

“You know what I’m going to miss the most?” Suga continues, water works just on the edge of his words. “The random video game sessions we had. Or pizza night. Wait! No. Definitely the dumb arguments you and Oikawa would get into,” he says, choking a bit on the last few words.

“Holy shit, Suga, you sound like we’re dying or something. Trust me, Oikawa and I are still going to argue about stupid shit literally every time we see each other,” I shout, laughing because he sounds so ridiculous.

“Okay, okay. I know, I’m sorry. It just feels so weird.”

“We’ll come visit you so much that you’ll get sick of us,” Hinata signs, and I interpret since Suga can’t (won’t) look away from the road. And even if he did his sign language recognition still isn’t great. “It’ll be like nothing even changed.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” Suga chuckles, and I’m surprised to find that the sob threatening at the back of his throat is finally gone. It took Hinata a fraction of the time it took me to learn how to calm Suga down.

“Is that it?” He asks, pointing ahead of us where the top of the house begins to rise through the haze of thick summer air. Hinata and I both nod and he smiles, finally tuning away from the road to look at us. “It sure sticks out.”

“I painted it, Hinata beams, some of his jittery excitement showing through the closer we get. Suga laughs and shifts his eyes to mine and I shrug, fondly remembering how carried away he got with the paint job. He could barely carry all of the buckets of paint he bought, trying to stack them on top of each other and almost toppling over countless times. Almost every section of our house is a different color. One for each outside wall, another for the window frames, three more for the porch and stairs. He kept it simple on the inside, but the outside looks like a page out of a Dr. Seuss book, and I love it.

The tires make a satisfying crunch on the gravel driveway and he three of us hop out of the cab, taking deep gulps of the outside air that is only fractions thinner and cooler than the inside. We start to carry in boxes while we wait for Daichi and Oikawa to show up, setting them down randomly on the wood floors. Every box breathes new life into the confines of the empty house, warming the walls and lighting a flame behind the dark glass windows. Each thump of cardboard hitting the floor like a heartbeat transforming the skeletal shelter into a home.

The couches come in next; and we just place them in the middle of the living room, planning to figure out how we’ll decorate sometime later. We didn’t bring much with us, there wasn’t much _to_ bring, but as Hinata goes around opening all of the curtains and windows I realize that I am not wanting for anything anymore. I have everything I need right here, and it feels amazing.

“It sure is hot out here. Are you guys going to get an air conditioner set up?” Suga asks, dropping onto a box next to me and pulling at his sweaty shirt. We’re both panting slightly after carrying the furniture, but the heat doesn’t bother me so much anymore. When you live in constant view of the sun you get used to the warm tingle it leaves on your skin and on the walls of your heart.

“Hinata says country air conditioning is big windows and taking a dip in the river,” I chuckle.

“If that’s the case I have a feeling you’re in for a rough summer. Do you even know how to swim?

“I can doggy paddle,” I shrug, pulling out my phone to check the time. “I think Daichi and Oikawa might’ve gotten lost somewhere.”

“Oh you’re right, it has been a while. I should call them,” Suga replies, worry creeping into his voice, but his words are cut off by the sound of more tires on the gravel outside.

“Speak of the devil,” I whisper, looking up as Daichi and Oikawa walk through the open front door.

“Knock knock,” Daichi calls from behind a towering pile of pizza boxes, just as Hinata makes his way back downstairs, face lighting up at the sight of food.

“Oh no, you guys already unloaded everything? What a shame,” Oikawa sighs, faking a shrug, a bag with cups and sodas in one hand.

“Surprise,” Daichi continues, ignoring Oikawa and interrupting before I can say something snarky back to him. “It’s the first official pizza night in your new house. We figured it was the best way to break the place in.”

Hinata skips over, grabbing a pizza slice from the top of the box and eating half of it in one bite. “Why so many, though?” I ask.

“Well…,” he answers, words trailing off at the end as he looks over at Suga and tries not to smile. I don’t like where this is going.

“Yo yo yo, where my party people at?” The sound of footsteps and two very familiar voices call from the front porch.

“We called a few people over,” Suga says, smiling as Bokuto and Kuroo make their way into the living room, Kenma following close behind.

“I did too!” Hinata chimes in, wiping pizza sauce on the side of his jeans before signing. “They should be here soon.” He smiles brightly before grabbing another slice of pizza and following Kenma to the sofa. I’m trying to be annoyed, trying very hard, but the feeling doesn’t come as easily as it used to.

“Wow, sweet bachelor pad, bro,” Bokuto nods, stepping up next to me and lightly punching my shoulder. I don’t know how he manages but I barely notice the beer he slips in my hand.

“It’s not a bachelor pad, Bo,” Kuroo laughs, clapping a hand on my other shoulder. “That’s only for single guys. By the way, where’s the fridge? We brought a whole case of beer that is not going to last long in this heat.”

“The new appliances aren’t going to be delivered until tomorrow sometime,” I tell him, handing the beer over to him with a smirk. “The electricity isn’t even on yet. Looks like you’re gonna have to drink fast.”

“Shit, really? You’re gonna help us right?” Bo asks, eyes growing more desperate as he scans the room and everyone shakes their heads.

“Not a huge fan of warm beer in the afternoon,” Daichi shrugs, pouring a glass of soda and handing it to Suga. “It’s all yours, guys.”

“Make sure you drink a lot of water with it,” Suga adds, handing the glass to Oikawa as Daichi pours another.

“Well, bottoms up, bro,” Kuroo shrugs, popping the top of one of the beers and tapping the can against Bokuto’s. They wrap their arms together and drink, not moving until both of the cans are drained, crushing them in their fists with a satisfied laughing growl afterwards, the four of us watching in stunned (almost impressed) silence.

“So, pizza,” Oikawa says, shaking his head and turning away as they reach for another can. He pulls paper plates from the bag he sat on the counter and hands them out. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until my stomach lets out a grumble when he offers the open pizza box to me.

“Looks like you guys started without us,” comes another familiar voice from the kitchen door. I turn to find Natsu standing there, arms crossed and eyebrows raised as she watches Bokuto lean his head against Kuroo’s shoulder, taking a break after the second downed beer.

“Don’t even ask,” I mumble through a bite of pizza, rolling my eyes at them.

“Oh no, trust me, I wasn’t going to. I’ve found its better not to know,” she smiles, tearing her eyes away from them and stepping into the room to wrap a small arm around my waist. I don’t even hesitate to return her hugs anymore, her familiar strawberry scent filling my nostrils and adding another crucial piece to that feeling of home. “I brought you something.”

She holds up a bag in her hand, pulling out a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies. “You’re the best, lil sis,” I tell her, taking one and biting into it.

“I know,” she smirks, offering the bowl of cookies to everyone else in the kitchen. “Uncle Ittetsu brought some stuff too. They’re in the backyard setting up. We brought fold up tables and chairs since we figured you didn’t have any yet. Oh, and an ice chest.”

They? Who else could be here? “Don’t tell Bo and Kuroo yet,” I whisper, looking over to where Kuroo sits on the floor, halfway done with a third beer and stacking the empty cans in a pyramid on Bokuto’s thigh.

“Of course not. You think I’m gonna let that end? They haven’t even gotten started yet. Come on.” I grab the sodas Daichi brought and Natsu grabs my free hand, pulling me through the living room to the back door, only stopping so I can tell Hinata his guests have arrived.

“All of them?” He asks, hopping up from the couch where he was watching Kenma do whatever it is he does on his phone.

“No not yet,” Natsu answers, and again I ask, just how many people are coming?

The glass panel in the back door has a few paint splatters from where Hinata got a bit carried away, but it makes me smile. Everything about this place is ours, and I adore it from the foundation to the crooked tiles in the upstairs bathroom.

“Mom! You made it!” Hinata calls when we get outside, skipping over to where his mom is setting folding chairs around a plastic table and throwing his arms around her.

“Just barely,” she smiles, running a hand through his hair. “My boss tried to call a meeting as I was leaving, but I told him that I had a prior engagement and no desire whatsoever to sit in a room with ten men talking over each other because they’re trying to prove that I’m not the loudest one in the room.” It still surprises me sometimes just how identical she and Natsu are.

“Where’d Uncle Ittetsu go?” Natsu asks, setting her cookies down and pulling the ice chest out from under the table for me.

“He went to grab the rest of the food from the car,” she answers, turning to me and smiling again. “You boys are in for a treat. Ittetsu made so much food its ridiculous.”

Hinata’s face lights up at the mention of more food, and he and Natsu head towards the side of the house where the cars are parked, their mother turning to me after they head off. “How are you, Tobio?”

In the last few months I’ve spent quite a bit of time around Hinata’s family with all the preparations, his mom included, and we’ve grown pretty close in such a short time. “Good,” I answer, letting her hug me and pat my hair the same way she did her son’s. “I’m still sort of in disbelief that this is happening. Everything feels to…perfect, you know? Like I’m going to wake up from a dream at any minute.”

“That’s real happiness, kid,” she says. “That means you’ve made it big.”

“I’m just trying not to lose it.”

She looks over to where Uncle Ittetsu rounds the corner, Tupperware bowls stacked in his arms and struggling to hand some off to his niece and nephew without sending the whole tower down, and then to the table over to the side of us where the rest of the group starts to trickle out of the house and into the yard, some a bit more unsteady than others.”It’s harder than you think.”

And she’s right, I think. Losing this wouldn’t be an easy task. I’ve fucked up so many times in the past, and yet these people I love so much have never left my side. All this time I thought I was the one holding onto them with all of my might, but it never occurred to me that they were holding on to me too. “Thanks, Yume,” I grin, a new brightness adding to the excitement that was already coursing through my veins.

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth.” She cups a hand on my face, gently patting it as she smiles in that loving way only mothers can achieve. Her words mean a lot, coming from someone who threw away the love she had and somehow won it all back. She speaks from experience, and it feels great to be able to partake in her redemption.

“Kageyama, look!” Hinata calls, and I turn to find him holding up a plate of meat buns, already stuffing one into his cheeks like a hamster and grabbing for another.

“Hey! Slow down you’re gonna make yourself sick,” I say, whisking the plate away from him and replacing it with a glass of water from a pitcher someone set out.

“But I’m starving,” he pouts, holding the meat bun between his teeth as he signs.

“Save room for dessert, Shouyou,” Uncle Ittetsu laughs, finally getting everything set up and walking over to us. “I have a feeling you’re going to like it. By the way, I didn’t get a chance to finally congratulate you boys. Did you get everything moved in?”

“Mostly,” I answer, accepting the quick hug he pulls us into. “We brought what furniture we had and a few boxes of random stuff; clothes, dishes, electronics. We have a shipment of a few other things coming tomorrow. I guess we couldn’t wait to just get in here.”

“It’s exciting isn’t it? You both worked so hard on this place and now you finally get to live in it,” he beams, probably just as excited as we are.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Hinata signs, gulping down the last bits of his food.

“Really,” I nod, remembering how much he taught the both of us during the rebuilding process. “We could never thank you enough.”

“Well, now that you’re all the way out here come visit me more often and we’ll call it even.”

“We promise,” the both of us say together, voices mingling in the slight breeze that has picked up, dissipating a bit of the stagnant heat.

“Perfect,” he grins, putting a hand on both of our shoulders, leaning up a bit on his toes to reach mine. His dark eyes widen as he sees something behind us. “Oh! The last of your guests are here.”

We both turn just as two women make their way into the yard; one short and blonde and the other dark haired and elegantly beautiful, hands clasped between them. Yachi carries a pie in her hands, and before I notice Hinata has bounded over their way, jumping in circles around them. Kiyoko smiles, taking the pie from Yachi’s hands as she struggles not to drop it during the attack.

They manage to keep the pie safe until it reaches the table, Hinata cutting into it as soon as the plate hits the plastic. Where he got the knife I have no idea. Yachi hovers over him, looking like she’s going to faint any time the knife gets remotely close to his fingers, and Kiyoko turns to me.

“Hello, Kageyama,” she greets me, extending her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met a few months ago. I’ve heard so much about you from Shouyou and Natsu.”

“Yes, I remember,” I return, taking her slender hand in mine and shaking it. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. Mostly from Suga.”

“Oh yes, of course. I don’t know why I never put it together that you’re the same Kageyama. Koushi speaks very highly of you.”

As if on command Suga appears out of nowhere, attacking the woman with a tight hug, his expression like a kid on Christmas morning. “Shimizu! I had no idea you’d be here!”

“Hey,” she smiles softly, patting his head fondly before he releases her. “It’s so good to see you. I still feel awful for missing your wedding, I had no idea I’d be out of town that week. Is your husband here?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been dying for you two to meet,” he says, brushing of her apology and pointing towards where Daichi stands with Oikawa and a very drunk looking Bokuto and Kuroo. “He’s just over there.”

“He’s not the one with the empty beer cans in his shirt, is he?” She asks, wrinkling her nose in confused amusement at Bokuto.

“No, no, he’s the handsome one in the blue t-shirt,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“I think we can tell them about the ice chest now,” I say, trying to count the beer cans in Bokuto’s shirt and figuring we’ve messed with them enough.

“Oh, they know. I told them ten minutes ago. Kuroo said it’s not about saving the beer anymore, now it’s about the _challenge_ ,” he sighs, putting air quotes around the word challenge. “Anyway, Daichi has wanted to meet you too.”

“Alright, let’s go. I’ll talk to you later, Kageyama,” she waves, letting Suga pull her towards the other group.

There was a time when having a get together this large, let alone being the host of it, would have turned my stomach, but I am genuinely enjoying myself. Every person here has had a hand in building the life I have now. Every smile, every hug, a leaf on the tree that I have just barely planted and yet has already grown so tall.

I wander around for a while, mingling with the separate groups that have formed and stuffing myself on all of the food that was brought. Eventually the sun starts to set, taking a bit of the thick heat with it, a soft dusk falling across the yard and casting the colors of the sky across the faces of my friends.

Uncle Ittetsu pulls a pack of cards out, watching fondly as his sister teaches Natsu how to play poker. As I make my way back over to Suga’s group I make a mental note never to gamble against her, unable to fathom what kind of skills Yume is adding to her already incredible natural bluffing talent.

“Psst, hey, Tobio come here,” Oikawa whispers when I get close, waving me over so he can talk in my ear. “Daichi and I have a bet going on for how hard Kiyoko is going to kick Bo’s ass when she notices him hitting on Yachi.” He points to the spot a few feet away from us with his chin where Bokuto is flexing his biceps for a politely unimpressed Yachi.

“Does he not realize they’re together? I mean, they have wedding rings for god’s sake,” I reply, shaking my head in disbelief. I knew Bo was dense, but not _this_ dense.

“He couldn’t even spell his own name right now,” Daichi chuckles, indicating the still growing pile of beer cans by the back porch steps. “I’ve got 1000 yen that says she’ll slap him and Oikawa has 1000 on a swift kick in the nuts. You in?”

“Yeah definitely,” I answer, pulling the bill from my wallet. “But my bet says Yachi will take care of herself.”

The three of us watch intensely as Kiyoko finally notices what’s going on and pauses her conversation with Suga to walk over to where Bo has started to sing an awful rendition of “I Can’t Fight This Feeling”.

“I didn’t know Bokuto knew REO Speedwagon,” Oikawa says, eyebrows raised in what I assume is a mix of impressed and surprised.

“Everyone knows their 80’s love ballads,” Daichi responds, waving his hand to shush Oikawa so we can hear what’s being said.

“And if I have to CRAWL upon the floooor,” Bo slurs, throwing his arms wide and sloshing a bit of beer out of the can in his hand. “Come CRASHING through your doooor-,”

“Excuse me,” Kiyoko smiles politely, tapping him on the shoulder and putting an end to the off-key shrieking. “My wife is more of a grunge fan if you don’t mind.”

“Wow,” Bo whispers as he turns to find Kiyoko giving him a stern yet courteous nod, hiccupping a bit at the end of his words. “Blondie are you seeing this? I think I’ve just met an angel.”

Poor Yachi looks like she’s going to faint as Kiyoko opens her mouth again to retort, and I almost step in before it can escalate anymore, but the fear drops from her gaze as Bo starts singing again, replaced by a determination I didn’t think she was capable of.

“I’ve been waiting, for a giiiirl like yooou, to come into my liiife,” he sings, words barely coherent as Kiyoko freezes and Yachi steps forward. I hear Daichi and Oikawa both take in a sharp breath beside me.

“You know, you have a lovely singing voice,” she says, smiling brightly at Bokuto, plastic and venomous.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” she continues, touching his shoulder before pointing at his beer can, voice cloyingly sweet. “May I?”

“You can have anything you want, Blondie,” he answers, holding the can out to her and smiling crookedly.

I swear Yachi giggles as she takes the can delicately between her middle finger and thumb, her smile turning sour as she immediately splashes the liquid straight in his face and handing the empty can back to him. “Get your own angel.”

The two women walk off together, heading over to the card table, and the rest of us stare wide-eyed at the dripping wet Bo standing before us. Even Suga watches sunned from just a few feet in the other direction.

“I have never felt so alive,” Bo whispers, a huge grin breaking out on his face as he turns to see where the couple went. “What a woman.”

“Pay up, gentleman,” I say, holding out my palms as Daichi and Oikawa slide me their bet money.

“You know, I’m not even mad about losing,” Oikawa shrugs, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “That was a hell of a show.”

“You okay, big guy?” Daichi asks, bumping Bokuto on the shoulder when he walks over toward us, Suga following close behind with a handful of cookies he grabbed from the food table.

“I’m fantastic,” he beams, running a hand through his dripping hair. “She ruined my hair but it was worth it.”

“Your hair has been ruined since birth,” Oikawa quips, looking disappointed when no one pays attention.

“I’m surprised Yachi did it,” Suga mutters through a bite of cookie, offering the pile to everyone in the circle. “I was almost positive Shimizu was going to slap you.”

“That’s what I said!” Daichi laughs, shoving half a cookie in his mouth. “Kageyama called it, though.”

“I’ve spent a bit of time around her,” I shrug, biting into my own cookie. “Damn, these are amazing.”

“Yeah, I’ve had like six,” Suga nods, a bit too much excitement in his eyes. “They taste really familiar. In fact, I don’t think Hinata made those cookies he left on your door that one night.”

“Well, the dinner I cooked on his birthday was takeout so I guess we won’t mention it,” I tell him, earning a few good laughs from the group.

“By the way,” Oikawa pipes up, turning back to Bokuto who still has a dizzy euphoric look to his owlish eyes. “Where’s your partner in crime?”

“Kuroo? He went off somewhere with Kenma a little while ago,” he answers, pulling his wet shirt over his head and laying it around his shoulders. He seems to be sobering up a little after the incident.

“Tobio!” Natsu calls, skipping excitedly over to us and grabbing on my shirt sleeves. “Kuroo and Kenma started a fire!”

“What! Where?” Less than four hours and the house is already on fire. Honestly what did I expect?

“Down the hill a little bit. A _bonfire_ , silly,” she tells me (thank fucking goodness), taking my hand and dragging me in the direction of the hill, my heart still hammering in my chest.

“We don’t have a fire pit though,” I say, allowing myself to be pulled, the others following behind.

“They dug one. Well, Kuroo dug one. Kenma just looked up a wikihow article.”

“Where’d he even get a shovel?” I ask, he situation seeming more and more ridiculous by the second and yet still not totally surprising. “And why is he digging when he’s shit face drunk? Who thought this was a good idea?”

“First of all, he probably got the shovel from Uncle Ittetsu’s truck. Second, why does he do anything he does? We don’t know. Third, probably no one, but just shut up and enjoy it.” As we near the hill I can see the glow of flames reaching just over the crest, growing as we get closer.

Everyone has migrated to the fire by the time we get there, all sitting cross-legged in the grass with the glow of the flames on their faces, very summer camp-esque.

“Oh god that feels awful. It’s _August_ for Christ’s sake,” Oikawa groans, shielding his eyes from the fire. “Kuroo what the fuck?”

“Aesthetic,” Kuroo beams, leaning on his shovel and staring into the fire, the adoration in his gaze almost concerning.

“Lighten up,” Natsu glares, sticking her tongue out at Oikawa and skipping off to sit with Kenma. I follow her, plopping down on the grass with Hinata, a little removed from the other clusters.

“Hey,” I breathe, taking his hand and threading our fingers together as he look up at me and smiles.

“Hey,” he returns, squeezing my hand before letting go. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night.”

“I’ve been wandering around a lot,” I shrug, letting the feeling of sitting by the fire and talking softly give us a false sense of privacy. The sun has set, and the excitement has mostly died down, letting us have a few moments just to _be_. “You missed Bo getting rejected by Yachi. It was great.”

“Well _you_ missed Natsu obliterating Uncle Ittetsu, mom, and I at poker. She cleaned us out,” he laughs.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

We sit like that for a while, Hinata’s head on my shoulder as fireflies start to fill the sky, watching as Kuroo, Bo, and Natsu dance around trying to catch some in her palms. After about half an hour I think he’s fallen asleep, but as I do my best to check without waking him up he turns, looking up with a furrow in his brow.

“Sho?”

“I want to show you something,” he signs, looking around the scattered circle before grabbing my hand and standing.

“Oh, okay,” I say, confused and not exactly sure what’s happening. He slips behind everyone, slinking away like a cat, and I watch as I follow, fascinated by the way he moves.

No one notices as we make our way back up the hill and towards the house, rounding the porch to the front of the house where all the cars are parked.

“Hey,” I whisper, reaching for him as he grabs the handle of Uncle Ittetsu’s old pickup truck. “What are you doing?”

“It isn’t here,” he tells me, a soft sort of reminiscence to his gaze, like a memory ghosting across his vision. “It’s back at the ranch house.”

He hops up in the cab, pulling down the sun visor to reveal a set of keys with a plastic tulip keychain and smiling.

“He always keeps the keys there,” he signs, tossing them down to me and scooting over to the passenger side so I can hop in.

“Are we stealing your uncle’s car?” I ask, turning to look at him with the keys hanging from my hand halfway to the ignition.

“It’s not stealing, it’s _borrowing_ ,” he signs, trying to look reassuring. “He wouldn’t mind anyway. “Let’s go before they notice we’re gone.”

“Yes sir,” I sigh, turning the key in the ignition and feeling the old engine roar to life beneath us. How nobody hears as we pull out of the dirt driveway I don’t know, but we make it out and I turn onto the main road, taking all of the turns that have so easily become familiar. The cool breeze through the windows feels amazing after having the radiating heat of the bonfire on my face for so long, and it’s hard to keep my eyes on the road as they keep wandering to the way Hinata’s curls blow softly across his face.

Pulling up to the ranch house with the driveway empty and the windows dark is an odd feeling. It almost seems fake, like this big sacred thing removed from the realm of our realities, perfect and pristine as it holds so many memories behind its walls. It isn’t, though, it is very much real and just as warm and inviting as the first time I saw it, despite the silence.

Hinata wastes no time with personal sentiments like I do, hopping from the cab as soon as I shift gear to park and motioning for me to follow him. He grabs my hand when my shoes hit the ground, pulling me towards the house and around the porch, stopping only when we’re in front of the back door.

“Over there,” he whispers, pointing to the side of the wall that I know holds his sunflower paintings. He lets go of my hand and wraps both arms around his middle, as if to keep something inside.

“Your sunflowers?” I ask, realizing that we’ve never actually looked at them together before. Uncle Ittetsu was the one to show them to me the first time and other than that I’ve only seen them at a passing glance. But now, studying them for the first time in I don’t even know how long, they look different. “Is this a new one?”

He nods slowly, looking back and forth between the wall and me. I want to ask so many questions; when did he paint this, _why_ did he paint this, why does it look so sad and wilted, why does _he_ look almost identical? But I don’t, waiting for him to gather himself and tell me what it is he has to say.

He takes a few steadying breaths and squeezes his eyes shut before unwrapping his arms and turning to me, words finally ready on the tips of his fingers.

“When I came to see my mom a few months ago. Before…before that fight,” he says, and I nod, the memory still fresh. “I didn’t actually come to see her. She came over for dinner one night but that’s not important.”

“If you didn’t come to see her then why’d you leave?” My patience has gotten better, but it can still use a lot of work.

“To paint this,” he signs, gesturing to the last flower, but where I would expect to still see the apprehension in his expression from moments before I see a soft adoration instead. His eyes move over the paint as if they were a hand touching and feeling the pigments and the way they fill the pores of the wood. “I used to paint hem when I was younger and I needed to vent my anger or fear. I never thought I’d need to do it again, but I guess I’m glad, if anything, that you’re the one that made me feel those things. You make me feel everything so much deeper than I ever could before.”

I step forward, touching the petals of the painting and almost felling the softness of a real lower beneath my fingers. Every ounce of spirit he put into it, every emotion he felt as the brush hit wood, warms my skin. He moonlight hitting the surface drains he color, casting everything in that ghostly pale silver glow I love so much, and the world feels content.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, turning back to him and smiling.

“You aren’t upset?”

“Upset about what?” I ask, moving away from the wall and closer to him, unable to keep myself from grabbing his face and feeling that same warmth from the wall through his cheeks.

“That I lied to you,” he breathes, looking up at me with eyes wide and bright, breathtaking with the reflection of stars across their glossy surface. He pulls away a bit so he can fit his hands between us to sign. “It seems important at the time. _All_ of these felt important at the time, but now I can barely remember the reason behind some of them, and the ones I do remember seem so petty and immature when I was heading toward this life all along. Nothing back then matters when I had a future with you just waiting for me. They’re a sign of how weak I was, and how stupid for not just talking to you before things escalated the way they did.” He drops his hands and closes his eyes, breathing deeply again before returning his gaze to mine.

“Nope, I’m not mad at all. You know why?” He shakes his head and I smirk, planting a quick kiss to his forehead before continuing. “Because without everything that’s happened to both of us we wouldn’t be where we are now. Without every drop of paint on that wall and every feeling behind it you wouldn’t be you, and you wouldn’t be here right now with me. I probably would’ve been upset back then when it happened, but now…now I’m just thankful for every second we spend together and everything that made it possible.”

There are tears in his eyes when he smiles, and I can’t keep myself from kissing him anymore. He tastes of soda and meat buns, and I decide that this is the taste of home.

“I love you,” he whispers when he pulls away, grinning from ear to ear. “And I love the person you’ve turned me into.”

“The parts of myself I love the most are the parts I stole from you,” I tell him, taking his hands and mine and kissing the tip of each finger. “And I am so ready to spend my life with you. I didn’t even know what happiness was before I met you. I love you, Shouyou, more than I could ever say.”

“Then don’t say it,” he smiles. “Show it.”

He turns away from me, ducking down below the porch steps and pulling out a box of paint supplies, dumping it in my arms with a grin.

“I want to start a new tradition, at our house. A sunflower for every happy moment, painted together, because those are what I want to remember now. Those are what I want to look back on. But I think the first one should be here.” He pulls a brush and one of the small pails of paint from the box, and I follow him as he steps up to the last sliver of uncovered wall.

My strokes are wide, nowhere near as delicately as the petals he creates, but I know he loves them just the same, guiding my hand when needed. It isn’t beautiful, the imperfections drawing my eye when we step back to examine our work, but it’s exactly as it should be, a raw and rough representation of the feelings we put into it.

The start of a new tradition, he said. I already love the idea; jut imagining the stretch of sunflowers that will grow on the walls of our new home, petals reaching for the sun that lights my world.

We don’t speak; we don’t need to. Hinata takes my hand, pulling us both down on the grass. I sit with my back to the wall and he puts his head in my lap, our own party forgotten as we watch the sky. He points excitedly at every shooting star, and I start to point out constellations, loving the way his eyes light up every time he fits the pieces together himself.

Under the vast inky sky, riddled with so many pieces of myself twinkling so brightly amongst the void, under the moon, forever changing, under the stars, representing more than I can explain, we are everything we ever could have hoped to be, and finally, _finally_ , we are everything we could have ever wanted.

***

No one noticed when we slipped silently back into the group back home, or if they did they didn’t mention it. At some point Natsu convinced me to bring my guitar out of the house and play around the fire, everyone singing along of key and without rhythm but beautifully nonetheless.

Eventually everyone started to trickle home, sometime after the fire died down but much before the sun stained the night sky with its dull morning colors. When Suga hugs me goodbye Daichi practically has to pry him away, both of us knowing that he won’t let go unless forced, and Natsu and Kenma let me know that Bo and Kuroo passed out somewhere in the living room, and there’s really no way to wake them up.

They’re still there the next afternoon when Hinata and I wake up in our new bedroom, the walls unfamiliar to my eyes for those first few waking moments, and make our way downstairs to start unpacking.

“Are they still breathing?” He signs, peering over the back of the sofa to where Bo lays upside down off of the cushions, his head on Kuroo’s chest where he’s sprawled spread eagle on the floor.

“I don’t think you can snore that loud without breathing,” I tell him, and he giggles, blissfully unaware of the roaring engine sounds coming out of our friends.

 _Our friends_ , I think to myself as he scoops up one of the boxes labeled ‘studio’ ands heads off down the hall. I don’t know when they stopped being _his friends_ and became _our friends_ , but I accept it. It feels so freeing, having these things no longer being _mine_ and becoming _ours_. Our friends, our family, our home, our life. Being us is so much greater than being me.

Speaking of family, my phone begins to ring somewhere in the kitchen, and a picture of my mom meets my eyes when I pick it up.

“Hey, mom,” I say, lifting the phone up to my ear and leaning against the counter.

“Tobi! I wanted to call and see how you were getting settled after the move.” Her voice is chipper and genuine, sounding so much better than the forced brightness she’d had months before. She’s been spending more time with my aunts lately, rediscovering aspects of life she never explored before, and thriving. She ‘s not perfect, Dad’s passing obviously still affecting her, the same way it will always affect me, but last time Hinata and I went to visit she seemed honestly happy again.

“Well, we only moved in yesterday, and we didn’t get much work done with everyone over, but we’re doing well,” I tell her, leaving the counter and wandering aimlessly through the living room and hallway, rounding back to the kitchen. “We’re going to try and get everything unpacked and set up today. Shouyou’s setting up his studio in the spare room right now.”

“Oh I bet it’s lovely. You must get so much great sunlight for him to work in out there,” she says, and I can hear the fond smile on her lips. It brings a similar expression to mine. “Maybe you should set up a greenhouse. I hear they’re good for outdoor painting.”

“Maybe in a few weeks,” I tell her, mind wandering to Hinata painting surrounded by flowers and vegetable plants. It’s a good idea. “We haven’t even set up our fridge yet.”

“Well, I’m sure you boys will get situated soon enough. It’s exciting isn’t it? Living together? It’s quite a big step.”

“Mom, where’s this going?” The lilt in her voice makes me uneasy, threatening a serious ‘mom talk’ about plans and our _future intentions_.

“Oh, nowhere, honey,” she answers, but her tone says otherwise. “I was just thinking that after taking such a _big_ step together, taking a few smaller ones afterward won’t be too hard.”

“Mom…,”

“I mean, you’re _already_ committed. There’d be no harm in-,”

“Mom!” She goes silent, but not the rigid silence there used to be between us. More of a surrendering silence, putting a pin in the conversation but definitely not letting it go. “We literally have lived together for less than twenty four hours and you’re already trying to fit us for wedding bands. Let us breathe, mom, honestly.”

“Okay, okay,” she concedes, but I can still hear the idea sitting on the tip of her tongue. This is going to be a long fought battle. “I’ll let it go. But just keep it in mind.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how’s everyone doing on your end?” That fixes it; she immediately launches into various news updates. How Aunt Chiyo’s baby is doing, how she’s been getting along with her new book club, and other small town gossip. It’s soothing, and I let her ramble on until I hear the tires of a delivery truck pull into the driveway outside.

“I’m gonna have to let you go,” I tell her, glancing out the window as the driver hops from the cab and goes around the back to grab the moving dolly. “Our shipment just got here. But you should really come visit sometime after we get settled. We’d love to see you, and I’m sure Shouyou’s family would like to meet you.”

“Of course, baby. Call me when you boys are ready and we’ll work something out,” she coos. “I love you, Tobi. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, mom. Love you too.” Hanging up feels satisfying, reinforcing the feeling of this new relationship I’ve built with her. It’s satisfying because it promises another; more silly stories about new salon workers or what the town minister’s daughter has been getting into, more not so subtle pushes in the direction of furthering our relationship, more promises to talk again. The days of final goodbyes are behind us, of wondering which slammed receiver or thrown phone would be the last, and it’s just one on list of many things I’m thankful for.

Helping the delivery man get the heavy packages inside only takes about fifteen minutes, and I don’t touch them when he leaves, choosing instead to head upstairs and see what Hinata’s up to. He has his back to me when I walk in, setting up his easel just right across from the window. He chose this room for his studio because he said the way the sun hit the windows in the morning was prefect, and that his window of time for good sunlight in his old apartment was too limited. Here, the possibilities are endless.

I stand silently for a bit, watching as he goes over to the stacks of canvases he’s lined against the wall, oblivious to my presence as he searches for whatever painting he wants to put up. He finds what he’s looking for, gently pulling it out from between two other pieces, and turning to set it against the easel, the surface lighting up with that precious sunlight, and my heart catches in my throat. It’s the first painting he ever showed me, the one that sent me running with no intention of ever returning. It’ the painting that set so many events in motion, and I can’t breathe.

“Oh!” He squeaks, startle when he turns around to find me standing in the doorway, eyebrows knitting together when he sees the look on my face. “Don’t freak out,” he signs, stepping forward and pulling me into the room.

“I’m not,” I lie, my voice a much higher pitch than usual. “It’s fine, I’m just…surprised, I guess.”

“Save that thought,” he tells me, letting go of my hand and stepping around the easel to find another box and holding it out to me. “I got this for you a while ago, and I was waiting for a special occasion to give them to you, but I can’t wait anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, taking it carefully.

“It’s a present, silly,” he smiles, which only confuses me further. He reaches out and taps the box, telling me to open it, so I do. Inside is a simple pair of glasses, wide frames over thick lenses.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him, turning the glasses over in my hands.

 He just smiles softly again, and I can see excitement building in his eyes. “Just put them on.”

I do as he says, and I drop them as the lenses cover my eyes, my hands fumbling as everything around me changes. “Holy shit,” I whisper, saying the only thing that I can manage to think clearly, my mind racing faster than I can keep track of.

“I found them online. They’re called Enchroma glasses. They’re meant to help you see color,” he signs, starting to bounce on his heels as he waits for me to speak again, but I just stare at him, completely stunned.

“Sho,” I whisper, reaching forward to run my hand through his hair. “Your hair is so...so _orange_.” I knew this, of course, had seen the way he matches the color of the sunset, but he has never been so vibrant.

“What about this? Look at this!” He grabs my hand that is still playing with his hair and spins me around, pointing at the painting on the easel. “What do you see?”

“Oh god,” I gasp, stepping forward and sticking my face as close to the canvas as I can without touching it. It’s beautiful, something I’ve never seen before, every hue brightened and intensified, the muddy yellows and browns turned to reds and greens and purples. There are divisions in the colors that once bled together in chunks of dull pigment. “Sho, holy shit.”

He just laughs as I stare at the painting in wonder, pointing at different streams of color.

“This one. Purple? Is this purple?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a reddish violet.”

“Wow. And this green! It’s so bright.”

“Mhmm. Wait until you see the trees outside.”

“And this is pink?”

“No, that’s teal. You’ve never seen pink?”

“I guess not.”

“There’s some pink right here.”

“Holy shit.”

We continue on that way, Hinata watching as I discover his world the way he has always known it for the first time, and I don’t know at what point I start to cry but the glasses lenses start to fog up and I have to take them off to wipe at my eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I say, my voice thick with tears and the emotion still coursing through my veins.

“So you like them then?” He asks, reaching up to wipe at my face with soft hands.

“I love them. They’re incredible. _You’re_ incredible,” I babble, leaning my face toward his touch.

“Now you see what I see,” he whispers, his own eyes turning glossy.

And it’s true. I finally understand the world the way he does. I finally understand why people are so drawn toward art and color; be it groups of wildflowers or schools of tropical fish. I understand his passions now, and I want him to understand mine.

“I’ve figured it out,” I say suddenly, not entirely sure where the statement is going. “I know what I want to do.”

His eyes turn eager as he reads my lips, waiting for me to continue but getting impatient. “Really? What is it?”

“I want to develop a type of music for the deaf. Sho, you helped me to see your art, and now I want to do the same for you. I want to share my world with you. It’s going to take a lot of work, and a lot of research, but…but I think I can do it. Just picture it, a type of sound dependent entirely on beats and vibrations. What do you think?”

It’s his turn to cry; tears slipping from the corner of his eyes as he laughs, half happiness and half a bubbling sob. “I think you can do anything you want to and that you’re going to change lives. I think it’s an amazing idea, and I think I love you.”

 “You think you love me?” I smirk, and he pulls me down by the collar of my shirt to meet his lips, the tears that touch our mouths tasting of salt, but not in the hopeless way they used to. I snake my arms around his waist and he pulls back, leaning our foreheads together.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt, but do you guys have any cereal or eggs or something?” Bokuto’s voice comes from the doorway, but we do not unwind when we turn towards them.

“And some aspirin if you have it,” Kuroo adds, yawning as he enters the doorway.

“You guys ever heard of bad timing?” I ask, but it’s punctuated with a chuckle rather than a bite.

“I waited for a while but I’m really hungry and the only thing in your kitchen is boxes. Which weren’t there last night,” Bo says, pointing his thumb behind him and knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

“How long were you standing there?” Hinata asks, letting go of me so he can sign.

“Not long enough to know what’s going on but definitely long enough to be grossed out,” Kuroo answers, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head. “You two are worse than Suga and Daichi. But, seriously, the aspirin.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk twelve beers each,” I mumble, wanting to get back to what I was doing.

“Well maybe you should’ve had a fridge,” he fires back, rubbing his temples.

“Touché.”

“Come on,” Hinata signs, shooting Kuroo a sympathetic smile. “I think I know where the box with the aspirin is at.”

“Thank god,” Kuroo sighs, following him down the stairs.

”What about the eggs?” Bokuto calls after them, a pout forming on his lips.

“Looks like we’re having stale pizza for breakfast, Bo,” I say, patting him on the shoulder and heading in the direction of the others.

It’s not exactly the type of morning (afternoon) I envisioned having in the new house, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I think I could get used to small surprises and shared revelations very day, so far removed from the dark days that blended together like I used to imagine.

Nothing is put together, our life scattered around and still forming like thousands of tiny suns in the galaxy, but the unknown is finally a journey I’m ready to embark upon, and I couldn’t have chosen a better partner to take it with.

***

One flower begets another, and slowly, we build a garden of our own, stretching the walls of our house, and eventually the happy memories grow so numerous that it’s hard to tell them apart.

One, after a few good years, for the wedding that we let our mothers plan since the sentiment meant so much more to them, being content enough with just each other. I’ll never forget the way Hinata’s face lit up as I signed my vows to him, and I’ll never recover from the way my heart stopped in my chest as he spoke every word of his, voice ringing out so beautifully for everyone to hear.

Another for when Natsu graduated high school and got into her first choice nursing school. As if at once she had grown up before both of our eyes, and we couldn’t be prouder.

One for the children’s book author that signed Hinata on as their official illustrator, and one for when my musical side project was recognized by a professional science magazine.

One, nearly a decade after the first, for the tiny pink bundle we finally got to bring home, and a row of tiny flowers for everything we got to watch her grow and achieve.

Sometimes I remember a time when the two of us were separate, singular one dimensional people with little purpose and miniscule dreams, but after a while it’s hard to picture over living apart from him. Life stretches out before us, vast and unlimited, and I know that there is only forward motion, only love and joy to feel.

I watch as life’s colors blend before me, and he listens to every beat of our well worn hearts as, together, we fill our own sky with the stars we grew so much beneath.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say one final thank you to all of you and to say that if you're reading it right as it's posted or months after it's completed please feel free send me any feedback you may have. Every comment is important to me and I love you all so much <33

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts, suggestions, or questions would be greatly appreciated! You can direct them all to my tumblr, [here](http://ghost--fox.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Sun Through Your Eyes, My Home In Your Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7518677) by [DerpyPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerpyPanda/pseuds/DerpyPanda)




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